I have so many questions after the two-hour finale. Once the credits rolled, I was convinced there would be some kind of epilogue, something, anything! But no. I’m left with questions and that’s awful for me. Similar to the end of Inception, I will peruse the internets until I find the answers. But until then, here is my list:
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
My Mom Has Cancer ... Take 2
It was after the new year, so the great thing is we could say she'd been cancer-free for at least 6 months. In chemo world, that's a big deal because it means she is sensitive to platinum-based drugs. Otherwise, they'd have to try something else ... probably even a trial of some sort. But here we are, where we were this time last year: the infusion room. Only this time last year, we were just about done with the sessions. This one feels longer, because it takes longer. And the side effects are weirder, less straight forward, more sporadic.
The worry that without surgery there's a possibility that the tumor could still be growing is pretty daunting and we probably shouldn't think about it. But we do. She does. And while on the outside, it may look like she's calmed down and entered a good place of 'the chemo will work; it is working', on the inside, I think she's constantly thinking that it's not working, and that valuable time is being wasted. But she is a woman of science, she has to believe that the drugs work. And that's why I think it's hard for her to admit her fears to the doctors and the NP, because questioning the approach puts into question everything she's ever believed. She was stronger last time around; we all saw that the approach worked, we saw the numbers go down. We were given positive reinforcement every step of the way. But it's not like that anymore. This is a different journey, and it's unpredictable.
We had the genetic counselor stop by. We went through the family, the cancers, the possibilities of what could be coming for me. My sister. Even my female cousins. It's going to be difficult either way, but I don't think I don't want to know. I think I'm better knowing; my imagination gets away from me too easily. And it's not like I can't do anything about it when I do know. I can do lots of things; surgeries and whatever. I don't have to wait until 40 if I don't want kids, but of course my other stuff might get all out of whack. I'm just trying to think of the type of person I am though. I'm risk averse for the most part. I'm not taking risks, I'm not doing things that don't have strong probabilities of success. So say my mom had the gene (either one, it doesn't matter); would I really continue life business-as-usual knowing that I now have at least a 50 percent chance of getting cancer? That just seems dumb. But it depends on the person. My cousin says she wouldn't do anything. My sister says she'd have her breasts removed. In any case, at least we don't have to pay for the testing.
So that's where we are. Lots of unknowns. Chemo #3 is coming up next week, and though it should only take 2 hours, other things (blood, fluids) have kept us there for longer than we'd like, especially when you don't even have a window seat!
The worry that without surgery there's a possibility that the tumor could still be growing is pretty daunting and we probably shouldn't think about it. But we do. She does. And while on the outside, it may look like she's calmed down and entered a good place of 'the chemo will work; it is working', on the inside, I think she's constantly thinking that it's not working, and that valuable time is being wasted. But she is a woman of science, she has to believe that the drugs work. And that's why I think it's hard for her to admit her fears to the doctors and the NP, because questioning the approach puts into question everything she's ever believed. She was stronger last time around; we all saw that the approach worked, we saw the numbers go down. We were given positive reinforcement every step of the way. But it's not like that anymore. This is a different journey, and it's unpredictable.
We had the genetic counselor stop by. We went through the family, the cancers, the possibilities of what could be coming for me. My sister. Even my female cousins. It's going to be difficult either way, but I don't think I don't want to know. I think I'm better knowing; my imagination gets away from me too easily. And it's not like I can't do anything about it when I do know. I can do lots of things; surgeries and whatever. I don't have to wait until 40 if I don't want kids, but of course my other stuff might get all out of whack. I'm just trying to think of the type of person I am though. I'm risk averse for the most part. I'm not taking risks, I'm not doing things that don't have strong probabilities of success. So say my mom had the gene (either one, it doesn't matter); would I really continue life business-as-usual knowing that I now have at least a 50 percent chance of getting cancer? That just seems dumb. But it depends on the person. My cousin says she wouldn't do anything. My sister says she'd have her breasts removed. In any case, at least we don't have to pay for the testing.
So that's where we are. Lots of unknowns. Chemo #3 is coming up next week, and though it should only take 2 hours, other things (blood, fluids) have kept us there for longer than we'd like, especially when you don't even have a window seat!
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