Finding the Can't in Cancer

Yesterday was Remembrance Day and while many gathered at cenotaphs to remember, Paul and I were on our way to the Juravinski Centre.
We watched several warplanes circle the Warplane Museum, preparing for their place in the Remembrance Day ceremonies, and we drove on.

Yesterday, in my little world, was Chemo #5 Day.
I am officially over half-way done my chemo treatment.
I was nervous.  I had come to know how to deal with the last chemo medicine colloquially referred to as the "red devil" by the nurses administering it.  I knew what sorts of medicines to take and when; how much food to eat and on what days; that I wouldn't be able to enjoy coffee or most food tastes for several days after chemotherapy.  Better the devil you know, right??
But these next 4 chemo sessions are with a new drug and I was nervous.  This was a devil I did not know....
I was told by my oncologist, by his nurse, by my favourite breast cancer survivor and supporter, Sonja Heeringa that this chemotherapy was a much gentler kind.

"It causes little to no nausea!"
"These sessions of chemo were my preferred!"
"You will feel much better after these rounds!"

So many assurances but skepticism, cynicism, doubt and fear crept in and laid down their own shadowy words....
"What if you get even more sick than before?" Skepticism drawled.
"Hmmmm, seems to me that what was a surety for everyone else with the other chemo was not the case for you..." slurred Cynicism.
"They're probably all just trying to make you feel better," stated Fear and Doubt.

So, it was with mixed feelings that I made my way to the Juravinski Centre yesterday, Paul at my side.

In preparation, I had to take steroids 12 hours and 6 hours before the chemo administration time.  This  meant I had to stay up late....take steroids...and then wake up in the wee hours of the morning to take more steriods....and in the middle of all this, get a good night's sleep.  Thankfully, the doctors said I could take some good old melatonin (a nice natural medicine to aid sleeping) and while my body wondered whether it should get all excited and wired or sleepy and lazy, I slept!  Haha, body, gotcha!

Okay, back to the drive.  We got to the centre, signed in and waited.  Apparently, to add to the fun, this chemo often causes an allergic reaction.
"So, you may experience shortness of breath, rashes or...." gently explained the sweet-voiced nurse as we were being led to the lazy-boy chair where I would sit for the duration of my infusion.
My brain stopped listening as I mentally eye-rolled.  Honestly, I would pay for some pharmaceutical company to come up with a nice side-effect to offset all these nasty ones.  Shortness of breath; deep bone pain; but you will fart rainbows!  Nausea; fatigue and you will smell like roses!
Seriously, cut us cancer patients some slack here!

Now, where was I??  Oh yeah......so to counter the possible allergic reaction, TA-DAH....another medicine!!!!  Hurrah!
So, insert some Benadryl and wait.
I had also taken some other medication at home to help my with my needle anxiety so while I waited, I became sleepy.
The nurse came and inserted the IV needle (ick) and the infusion began.   There was no allergic reaction!  No shortness or breath.  No rash.  No farting rainbows (rats!)  No smelling like roses (double rats!)

This was a longer infusion.....4 hours from beginning to end.
Paul and I chatted.
Paul and I chatted wth a man sitting next to us.

"You gotta stay positive!" he said, "it's all in your attitude!"  Amen, brother!

We chatted some more but then my eyelids began to droop and I felt like I was beginning to slur...
"I's jes gonna shleep for a sec..." I garbled and I slept for 2 hours straight.
I would like to think that during that time, Paul gazed at my sleeping form in adoration, memorizing the sweet way that my nostrils flared with each inhalation.  You know what, I'm just going to go on thinking that!

When I awoke it was to find someone new beside me.  One lady receiving chemotherapy and one woman sitting beside her.  We exchanged stories.

"What are you in for?" asked the support lady.
"Breast cancer.  You?"  I countered.
"Lung cancer.  And some on my bones.  This is my 11th round so far," answered the patient.
"Wow....." Paul and I answered, gazing at her with something akin to admiration mixed with horror.
"Yeah.  I don't really know how many rounds the doctors want me to do but I will just keep coming...."
"Wow...." I said again...not really knowing what else to say.

So many people here.  So many suffering but still living.
Cancer can knock you down, can't it?
But cancer can't take it all away.
It can end a life but it can't take it all away.

Someone at church dropped a lovely note into my mailbox but I don't know who you are.  Thank you!  This note is lovely and hangs on my kitchen wall.

Here is what the note says:

What Cancer Cannot Do

Cancer is so limited
It cannot cripple love, it cannot
shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith, it cannot
destroy peace.
It cannot kill friendship, it cannot
suppress memories.
It cannot silence courage, it cannot
invade the soul.
It cannot steal eternal life,
it cannot
conquer the spirit.

Between each of these lines in the note is a passage from the Bible.  Here's what it says:

"Yet in all these things
We are more than conquerors through
Him who loved us
For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life
Nor principalities, nor powers,
Nor things present, nor things to come
Nor height, depth, nor any created things,
Shall be able to separate us
from the love of God
Which is in Christ Jesus, our LORD."  Romans 8:37-39

Here is what cancer does do.

It takes me down a new path in life; an adventure that I didn't want to take but am on nonetheless.  It has let me meet countless new people.....Daniella, my primary VON, with her proud stories of her 6-year old son; Jodie Wallace the first nurse to give me an infusion; Dr. Levine, Dr. Hodgson, my radiologist, the countless people I meet during each infusion appointment ......and many others at the Juravinski Centre.  I love meeting them and hearing their stories.....and sharing mine with them.  Because of cancer, our lives are intertwined.

Cancer has challenged me.  I didn't want this challenge but it is here.  I have been sick and leaned over the toilet bowl many times over these past weeks.
I've have the shortest haircut I have ever had in my life.  Even at birth, I had longer hair.
Now I get to see what my skull looks like.  It is a fine-looking skull, so there!

Cancer has let me glimpse my mortality and strive to be better, love harder, live fuller.
I will not go gentle into that good night.
I will rage rage against the dying of the light.

Brigette