HOPE



I've just had a revelation.  And it's not a good one.  I believe the reason I've been able to be so positive and seemingly accepting of my situation is that until very recently I've felt pretty good.  Yes, I got tired, my sleeping habits leave a lot to be desired.  My appetite has been good, I've not lost any weight and people who haven't seen me for awhile all say how great I look.

That is changing.  It's a subtle change, but definitely a change and not for better.  I cannot remember the last time I had a really good day, one that lasted from sun-up to sun-down  I've had to start taking more pain meds.  Because of that, my intestinal tract is rebelling. In the last 2 weeks I've had an MRI, 2 different blood tests, trips to three different doctors, and a trip to the EMS because I thought my blood pressure had hit the ceiling (it hadn't, I had a faulty pressure cup).  I've lost a couple pounds because I haven't felt like cooking let alone eating anything.  I cannot remember the last time I had a full night's sleep.

I think it's finally hit me; I have a terminal disease.  I'm not going to get better, the downward spiral is beginning. It's easy to go around saying "I'm going to live til I die."  And having people say "You're an inspiration."  Yeah, it's easy until you start feeling like a big phony.  Until you just want it over.  Until you hear yourself say, "I wish I was dead, I just want this over."  And that scares you.  

Unless...I heard about an experimental study Johns Hopkins is hoping to get funded through private donations.  It is mistletoe therapy which has been used for years in Europe and other countries.  Of course the FDA would have to approve its use here and we all know what that means.  Thus the reason for private funding.  If you're interested in knowing more there is a web site www.believebig.org.  It was started by a woman in MD who had Stage 4 colon cancer that had metasized to her liver.  Her oncologist asked her if she would be willing to try this new untested (in the U.S.) therapy.  She said yes, what did she have to lose?  That was five years ago, today she is cancer free and has started this fund raising drive so that others may benefit from this therapy.

I don't know, maybe it's another "snake oil" scheme.  However, Johns Hopkins is sponsoring it so that should mean something.  Shouldn't it?

I've been thinking a lot about all the people I've known who've died recently.  And I think to myself, well they all lived through it.  Like some hurtle you have to jump over til you get to the other side.  That's the kind of "stinking thinking" you engage in when faced with the grim reaper.  They all lived through it?  What kind of sense does that make?

. I've  begun sorting through my belongings and giving things away.  It's not an easy process and it's very time consuming.    While going through some of my writing folders I found an entire file filled with e-mails that I wrote to friends while my late husband was in the nursing home.  There were a lot of them and reading through them was like living the whole experience over again.By the time I got through the file I was in such a dark place, I just shoved everything back in the box and finished my sorting for the day.

A dear friend of mine died in January.  I'd written a short piece about her entitled "The Return of Ms Gotrox".  It was written in 2001.  She had been recovering from ovarian cancer and the effects of chemotherapy.  I just sent a copy of it to her daughter and it will be read at her "Celebration of Life" service in June.  As I reread it today, the tears began to flow and I searched through my jewelry box for the pieces that she'd made for me over the years.   And again, I thought  well she's gone I guess my turn is next.

Along with carting around the baggage of cancer, I am consumed with the fear of what is going to happen if Tom has to have surgery and I either won't be here or even if I am here, who will take care of him while he recovers.

I do a lot of self talking.  I have to remind myself that none of us gets out of this alive.  That I've had the life I've chosen and it's been pretty good.  I've been fortunate to have had the family and friends I've had and to have lived in my little house for the last eight years and to have Tom with whom to share it.  I'm not alone and that's a good thing.  And if this is to be the final chapter, so be it.  In the words of Agnes Gooch, "I've lived."

HOPE;  How our precious everydays sustain us.