Two Monday's ago, July 30th, 2012 I met with my Oncologist to discuss the results of my last CT Scans. Both tumors had grown, a new one had sprung up in my right lung and apparently a fourth mass in my left lung remained the same - although they will continue to watch it. I was obviously not thrilled with the growth of a new tumor and the other two getting larger, but was hopeful that due to the slow growth process, the Lupron injections were working to a certain extent. My Oncologist decided to add on an additional daily hormone blocker, Letrozole, to see if completely ridding my body of estrogen would stunt the growth of this evil parasite.
When questioned about chemo, she had a response I wasn't expecting. She basically said, for now, we should make me as comfortable as possible dealing with this disease instead of making me miserable with something as toxic as chemo...due to what was in store for my "future".
This meeting was different then any other meeting I had with her because of the lack of hope in her response to my results. The long and the short of what she said was that basically this disease was nasty and unpredictable and extremely serious...and that sooner or later (stressing the sooner), it would take over and it would win. So why torture me in the process...
Hearing that your life will most likely come to an end a hell of a lot sooner then you ever expected it to is not the most comforting thing that can run through your mind. To my own surprise, I found myself to be completely calm and somewhat sarcastic about this slight death sentence. I mean, how much have I already heard regarding this fucked up disease that has been inhabiting my body for the last (almost) four years? Sometimes I just feel jaded and kind of want to laugh at how much crap has been thrown my way. Just another crappy thing to add to the pile of bullshit thrown into the back of my mind.
Needless to say, the following day the news kind of sunk in and I had a slight breakdown. So basically, on top of never being able to have children, I should expect to die somewhat soon...? GREAT!
I won't lie. The last week or so has been a pretty emotional one. I'm up, down, up, down...crying, laughing, sad, happy, depressed, anxious, thankful, resentful...
Is it the hormones (or lack thereof)? Is it the fact that I'm going through menopause? Is it anxiety? Is it a combo of everything? Who the hell knows. I feel bad for those that are close to me because I feel like I can't control my moods super well anymore. Perhaps I'm slowly starting to slip into that crazed space in my head. I'm not quite sure.
What I DO know, however, is that I'm not a quitter. I never was. When I was backed into a corner, I usually fought my way out. I've never been one to have anyone tell me what I can or cannot do, so I'm not about to start now. You tell me The Big C is going to win? I don't think so, buddy!
Many things in life I find to be somewhat of a game...interviewing for a new job, bagging that guy you've had your eye on, stalking out an item of clothing you know will go on sale...it's all how you play your cards. I'd like to think that my odds when playing whatever game it is I'm playing at the moment, are usually pretty high. Call it confidence, call it cockiness, call it whatever the fuck you want. Usually, when I want something bad enough, I get it. I'm not about to change that now.
So clearly, it has now come down to Me vs. The Big C. Whose going to win? Sorry you piece of shit disease, it ain't gonna be you!
Up until last week I never really felt as though I was in a fight for my life but clearly the tables have turned and that is exactly what needs to happen. It's as if I knew I would need to strap on the gloves and give it a go with Cancer when I was first diagnosed. Good thing I already got the ink to prove it.
So now, my friends, comes the true test of who holds the power. My arch nemesis or me. Put your fists up, Cancer: let's go.
