Now you may be asking what my cancer journey has to do with a load of laundry. I'm going to ask you to bear with me and I will make the connection. In the meantime there is a story. I'm afraid it will take about ten minutes. Would you expect anything less? It's a good one. I promise.
Day 1 - June 30 - Morning
Bare feet wiggling my toes in the grass. Must be summer time. I do have a Siwash sweater on and the rain is threatening as I write this. I feel good having the opportunity to sit and ruminate on the last few weeks.
This morning I was a bit preoccupied.
Moving on
Less and less is my life about cancer, and more and more about living each day. A few days ago I used the phrase "the drumbeat of approaching death" with a close friend. The immediate reaction was "Is this your way of telling me that there is progression?" No it isn't. It is a struggle to live with the reality that someday this drug is going to stop working. There won't be many options.
As a very close friend said when I told her about Deuces' death, "End of an era." I suspect, though I have no way of knowing for sure, that he died of a broken heart. The three brother cats mourned Yvette's loss. When Limerick died the remaining two seemed to bond more closely. I would often come through to find them curled up together like yin-yang symbols.
I miss him a lot. Several weeks ago I said a final good bye to my friend O'Keefe. He is the second to die of the three cats that I brought to Canada with me. He was the talkative playful one. His unflagging enthusiasm for the cat toy and the laser pointer kept me well entertained in this pandemic lock-down.
Thinking about O'Keefe's larger-than-life personality, I needed a way to say farewell. He was after all my lock-down companion. Hence a eulogy for a cat.
When I started running people told me that it was a mental challenge. No, I thought, it is a physical challenge. Over the last few days though I have been thinking a lot about that. Jess Movold in an article in “Runner’s World” asked a question I’ve been thinking about. “So then why do we do [run]? For me, it comes down to this: Running trains me how to hurt. The end of a hard workout is a benchmark that tells me how much hurt I can handle. It gives me the confidence to hurt a little more the next time. And a little more, and a little more.”
I have received a wonderful deluge of Christmas cards this year. Pandemic I expect. And they have made me feel a wee bit guilty.
So I took the opportunity to produce a calendar for you. It is in a pdf format which should allow you to print. I printed mine two to a page but I don't think I can force this on you.
About two months ago, The Canadian Cancer Society approached me. A cancerconnections.ca moderator was taking a digital story workshop. She needed a guinea pig to coach on how to produce a digital story. She asked if I would be her student. How could I turn down a chance to tell my story? And digitally was a bonus.
Let me get the easy good stuff out of the way first and then you don't have read any further if you don't want to.
My meeting with my oncologist on Monday was less than 8 minutes. The suspected tumour has actually shrunk. Not disappeared but gotten smaller. His suspicion is that the nodule is inflammation and not a cancer tumour. So another three month reprieve. My next scan is at the end of January.
Photo Credit: BC Cancer Foundation
Well the real world strikes. Now comes the test of my attitude.
I wasn't expecting to have to send out an addendum this fast. I was so oblivious to my CT scan that I didn't even mention it in my last note.