Survivor's Guilt

In early May I phoned my grandma to let her know the good news about my MRI, and the fact that it was NED. Grandma Anita was happy to hear it from me, but she wasn't surprised -- she said she knew, as she had known all along that I would be alright.

A few days later she passed away, at the age of 93.

I had to fly overseas for her funeral, to be there for her, for my sisters, for my mother. For me.  I had to find my way back to my beginning so I could say goodbye. I wondered about her words, about that last conversation; my grandma was a believer, her faith strong. She never really pushed me to believe in one thing in specific, as long as I believed in something. Faith, she often reminded us, saw us through the worst moments in our lives. I'm pretty sure she stuck around until she felt that I would be okay.

Truth is I hadn't traveled much since my MOAS. I was afraid to. What would happen if I ended up with a bathroom emergency? Or if I had an obstruction or some sort of other issue? The what ifs that never held me back before suddenly had me frozen in place. And then Granny Anita passed away, and I didn't even think twice - I was on a plane to see her off,  I was coming back to her.

My grandma practically raised us when we were little. She taught me to LIVE - not just to function but to live, to seek out the things that made me happy and pursue my dreams wherever they may take me.  She encouraged me to fly, even if it took me further away from her and her own life. Her legacy for me was that fearlessness and that faith, and I hope to instill those in my son. It took her passing for me to remember that side of me, and honour those lessons.

The funeral and the memorial were hard. A thousand people to hug, and words to give and take in. A million exchanges, touches, wishes. At the memorial, as we sat and talked about the wonder that was her life my mother noted that she couldn't be there for her mom on the last day, because for all last year she had been looking after her own daughter's life, and the chance she might leave her own grandson without a mom.

I felt thrown under the bus, as everyone's eyes turned to me. Some knew about my battle with PMP, other's didn't. But suddenly there was the weight of their curiosity and a wave of guilt I hadn't felt before. I lived, and she did not. That same week one of my friends from the PMP support group also passed away and while the guilt felt different it had the same familiar ache - why am I here, when others have passed on? Should I feel guilty that I have stuck around, when PMP and other things have claimed other daughters, other mothers, other friends?

No. No, I shouldn't. I know that.  I know that my survival isn't at their expense. And yet there is always that ache, in being one left standing. When people say someone lost their battle with cancer I can't help but to think about the people I have known throughout this journey - no, they didn't lose. They went down kicking and biting, and left a legacy with their courage, their dignity, the sum of their lives' work.

Cancer changes you and your family. Sometimes it makes you stronger, sometimes things fall apart. Whichever way life pulls, it is never the same.  I can look ahead  a bit now... I make plans for the next six months, until the next MRI and whatever it holds. But I am not the person that I was before this, and I will never be that person again. That's okay.  Whomever I become now, however my family changes and adapts to this new 'us', we'll find a way to make it through.

I am still grieving for the siblings I won't give Aiden, for the expectations of a future life that may not come to pass, for the friends I've lost along the way... but I'm done feeling guilty. I love this life. I love my life, I love my boys, I love my sisters, and my parents, and my friends. I love my art, I love plants, I love food, and music, and dance. I love living it with no regrets. There are things though, that clearly I am not done processing yet. I am not sure how long it will take to do so, and I am not sure that I can do it on my own. Perhaps its time to look into counseling, so that I can best figure out where to go from here.

One day at a time- my grandma taught me that.

Thankful

Just got back from scan results, and it was NED - no evidence of disease! So thankful and happy!
No more scans for another 6 months. Apparently the pain I was experiencing are the adhesions from surgery, still settling and stretching now that I have gained back weight.

  Off to enjoy this gorgeous spring afternoon and count my blessings.

The King of Impossible Things

Today is my MRI, the one that was moved from late May to mid April because of the zombie gnawing in my belly.  I won't get the results for another week, which will be a long and stressful time. Needless to say, I'm nervous. Scanxiety -- when does it go away??

Truth is, I don't know that it does. I think we're all shell-shocked still, and trying to not think that every pain and swelling, the persistent fatigue... all add up to the jelly beast being back.  I am hopeful  that its just scar tissue settling and the return of glorious belly fat. I can't stay in a place of fear, and while most of the time I am getting better at getting on with my life the times surrounding scans bring it all back.

There are times we struggle; our eight year old is having struggles at school with his teacher, and more often than not tries to think of ways to stay home with me. I'd like to think its all about their clash in personalities, but to be fair I think there's probably a fair ingredient of him just wanting to be home enjoying doing things with me. Let's face it, I pretty much slept for a year. We couldn't do much together, and it took a while for us to get back to our usual activities, to discovering the world together. I don't want to give it up anymore than he does!

That said, we have to live our lives with the belief that there will be MANY days and many years ahead for us to share together. And that is where faith comes in.

I believe in G-d. For me and my family that has been a tremendous help - to think there is some order to the chaos, and some purpose to the universe. But faith isn't only religion; I have faith in science, I have faith in my family and doctors, in my friends and community. The power or universal goodness that is so often overlooked.  There is so much anger and despair in the world, and sometimes I want to be the ostrich with my head in the sand. But for all the hate and the monsters out there, there are also good people. There is the good in all of us.  I choose to believe in all of that.

I joked with friends around the time of my MOAS that I knew I was in good hands, since I was going to the Tom Baker Centre and Tom Baker was one of my favorite Dr. Who. I love Dr. Who, and all its incarnations. I love that the companions always have faith in him, even if he lets them down, even if he can't always save them. The purpose of it all is larger than their individual stories, and in all his different lives there is a constant of conquering impossible odds and never giving up.

This year is Dr. Who's 50th anniversary, so I made a piece of art for it. Here's to faith, and to impossible things. 

Anniversary Check-up booked

So I  just had a phonecall from the Alberta Tom Baker center, and my MOAS anniversary check up with Dr. Temple is booked for July 16th. It'll be neat to see Calgary again in the summer, and actually get to enjoy it this time. :)

A Welcome Spring

It has been hard not to spend the past month taking note of all the anniversaries; the day I had my appendectomy and the first sight of the mucin, the day we found out it was cancer, the day we had to tell our son...the list goes on and on.

I can't live on anniversaries. I can't let the year from hell drag me back into it. Spring break was good - we put our son in a theathre camp and got to do art with him, science experiments, celebrate my MIL's birthday and spent time with the new nephew. Everything around us seems to be blooming and its a joy to behold ! Vancouver had a stretch of warm and sunny weather, and it has done wonders for my spirits.  I love BC ... it really has some of the more spectacular scenery in the world.

Having Aiden at my inlaws for a few days also gave me the impetus to paint our master bedroom. I had acutely disliked the colour since we bought our place a few years ago, but because it was a neutral colour decided to keep it for a while. The colour can charitably be described as an off-shade of pinkish tan, but during my convalescence I became more and more convinced that its actual name ought to be vomit. Finally I decided to take matters into my own hands and after convincing Chris a serene lavender blue would be a much happier choice, painted it. It was exhausting but exhilarating to be doing something physical again!

I have also signed up at the local Curves gym, since  my GP gave me the go ahead. Activity will help me build up my strenght and stamina again, and with spring I feel a renewed need to do things on my own and reclaim that independence.

On the health front, my  arthritis continues. I switched over to Aleve and it was an amazing difference, so I suspect that after all this while my body is probably too used to ibuprofen for it to help at all. The topical cream has also helped, but as this was supposed to last a month or two and we're now going on five my GP had me do some hand x-rays and we'll see if that shows anything. Hey, perhaps exercise will help a bit with that as well!

I also went to see my oncologist as I've had some belly pains and a bit of swelling again. While it can conceivable be simple belly fat ( I have put on 15 lbs since stopping chemotherapy) my mind jumps to other conclusions. I suppose over time I'll stop worrying that its a recurrence, but I don't see that happening any time soon. It feels like... tiny zombies gnawing on the inside, not like the usual cramps or pains.  As it is we've bumped up my scheduled MRI from the end of May to sometime in mid April. I hope to have the date soon so that I can make plans accordingly.

In the meantime, life doesn't stop. Aiden is curious, happy and adventurous -- and I have to keep up! I talked him and Chris into going to Lynn Valley canyon and the suspension bridge there. I like it better than the Capilano one because its free. ;)  I am utterly terrified of heights, and in particular of suspension bridges; when my friend Hiroko visited in 2011 and wanted to go there I thought I would pass out. This time? Not so bad. I'm guessing that after cancer suspension bridges are peanuts!

We had fun crossing to the other side, hiking down into the canyon ( while singing the songs from the Hobbit) and the more arduous hike back up. I'm not -quite- as woefully out of shape as I thought. :)

A Blue Rose

I have always loved the legend of the blue rose, the thought that at the end of it all a true heart can accomplish the impossible.  I am a firm believer that despite the odds one can prevail.

So in the spirit of continuing to learn new things, I tried my first oil painting, a blue rose done with a palette knife ( no brushes). This blue rose is for Chris and for Aiden, that they always know that love, that faith and hope.It isn't great - my mother thought they looked like cabbages. ;) But Aiden and Chris where here with me while I painted it, cheering me on, so to us its pretty special.

Aiden has been doing his own blog, and we continue do learn new things together. I have been teaching him watercolours and acrylics, and together we spent the last few weeks tumbling our own rocks. We kept a journal and now that they are finished we're turning them into pendants and dangles for family and friends.
We also got a painting in the mail, so had to go into Opus and learn to stretch it ourselves. Chris did it, and it was an amazing new experience. 

Today was another first, for me. As I dropped him off at his day camp for spring break I had to park at a Curves gym. Those of you that know me are probably aware that I am not the most physically active person; however, after a year of inactivity  I feel the need to get my body back. I need to get my strength and stamina back, and I am also hoping it will help with the post- chemo arthritis that I am still dealing with.
So! Friday I have an appointment with my GP to get some ideas on the arthritis and get her green light about my exercise plans. I got some information and handouts from the Curves owner, and its close enough to Aiden's school that I could drop him off in the mornings and come down to do a workout before heading home.

Anniversary

A year ago today, the world changed.

I was baking challah with my son, preparing to celebrate Purim and then go watch The Lorax with my mom and sister Ilana.

And then I ended up in the hospital, wheeled into surgery and coming out with a cancer diagnosis.

Today I am going to be a bit of a hermit. Aiden stayed home, so we are going to enjoy the sun, go for a walk, paint together. We will research together the rocks that we are tumbling, we will tackle the next Jules Verne's book together.

Life never gets back to what it used to be, but I think we are starting to figure out this new normal.