Probably, maybe, might

As a child, when I heard my parents’ immediate response with these words to my question, I would generally stomp my feet or huff as I walked away. In my young mind, it meant “no”.

As a parent, I found myself using these same words with my daughters, with the same reaction.

But I also recall begging, pleading, crying, and tantrums when those words were said. And not just from me – sorry my sweet daughters.

It might (oops – from here on noted as {O}) have been better to hear or say, “Tell me more about your request”, “That’s sounds interesting. Let me think about it and I’ll get back with you in an hour”.

Okay, maybe {O} that’s me probably {O} thinking I would have acted more appropriate when my parents had said it. Maybe {O} the internal feelings would have been more positive instead of an immediate negative feeling. I might {O} have not felt blown off, not validated or respected.

These are safe words. The person saying them doesn’t want to offend or hurt the requestor.

In the case of this blog, it’s a doctor not 100% sure and probably {O} not wanting a lawsuit if his professional guesses turns out to be wrong. I can understand that. Does it mean he’s not validating me? Or respecting me? Or blowing me off? No. Simply that more information is needed.

November 2009’s MRI showed a suspicious spot on the left, non-cancerous, breast. It was a “let’s check it again in 6 months” routine. Last week’s MRI results finally said “This site is benign”. Further, his “impression (such a nice clinical word isn’t it?) “No findings worrisome for malignancy”.

Worrisome? Interesting choice of words. So that means that if a report doesn’t state “is benign”, we should worry?

However, oh, we love that word too, right along with “But. . .”.

The right breast, the one that HAD cancer: “Overall there is increased enhancement of the margins of the lumpectomy site, yada, yada, yada. Enhancement continues to increase and this is probably benign. Recommend follow-up MRI in 6 months because of new site of focal enhancement that maybe related to yada, yada, yada”.

I’m probably {O} taking those words out of my vocabulary – maybe {O} when talking with others. But then again, I might {O} not.

I’m off to have a MRI of the brain. No one is questioning if I have a brain or, for that matter, validating if a brain exists. They just want to rule out that nothing is lurking there due to recent symptoms. Laymen’s term: has the cancer passed the blood/brain barrier and moved into the brain. Those who have read my blog or know me, this is claustrophobia at its worst.

Stay tuned to learn about the results from yesterday’s appointment with the Rheumatologist.

Time for me to take Valium and get into the confident, warrior mode to face the MRI beast. Gotta love living through drugs.


Blessings,

~Renee

Here You Come Again

This song has been in my head since Sunday.  Crying-Sunday.  Life sucks-Sunday. (read previous blog entry)

The lyrics sort of fit what's coming up this week . . . the dreaded MRI.  The tube.  The little bitty tube for my big butt.  Okay, gone too far.  Maybe it's the muscle relaxer I have in me or the acupuncture from earlier today.  Whatever.  I had to share Dolly's song with you (rewritten just a little).

Here you come again

Just when I'm about to forget all about you
You waltz right in the door
Just like you done before
And wrap the fear 'round your little finger

Here you come again
Just when I'm about to forget all about you
You look onto my calendar
And write down a date and time
And pretty soon I'm wonderin'
How I came to forget you

All you gotta do
Is show M. R. I.
And there go all my defenses
Just leave it up to you
And in a little while
You're messin' up my mind
An' fillin' up my senses

Here you come again
Lookin' to freak me out with no right to
An' shakin' me up so
That all I really know
Is here you come again
An' here I go

All I gotta do
Is remember Joshua 1:9
Be strong and courageous
Do not be terrified
Do not be discouraged
For the Lord your God will be
With you in the tube.


Lots of blood work on Thursday, along with the usual "are you there, Cancer?" bloodwork.  Many boxes were checked on the lab slip to rule out any type of autoimmune disease.  Believing!


Oncologist on April 29th in the morning and Rheumatologist in the afternoon.  What more could a girl want?


xoxox


Renee

Okay

I'm okay. 
Just okay. 
Not zippity-do-da-the-sun-is-shinning wonderful. 
Each day seems to be a struggle . . . sometimes mental;
sometimes physical;
sometimes spiritual.

My bones ache.
My muscles ache.
My brain is fuzzy.
I'm fatigued.
Each day is not the same. 

You (I) tell yourself (myself) that every headache is not brain cancer.
You (I) tell yourself (myself) that the pain in the hips is not bone cancer.
You (I) tell yourself (myself) that you (I) will not cry when talking with the doctor about the pain.
You (I) tell yourself (myself) to go on with life and ignore these things.
Not everything in your (my) world is related to cancer.
This is your (my) new normal.  That f-ing comment that you (I) hate.  Yep hate; not polite "dislike". But hate. 

17 months since chemo ended.
15 months since radiation ended.

I truly thought I would be back to me once the hair grew. That was the measurement, the goal, that all would be well with our (my) world.  It's not.

Okay.
I'm alive. 
I have a job. 
I have a house. 
I have a car. 
Okay, it could be worse.

MRI this Thursday.
6-month follow up with oncologist the following Thursday.
We (I) will be more than okay if we (I) don't hear the words, "There's a spot that we want to keep an eye on.  Probably nothing, but. . . ."

Follow-up appointment with regular doctor to determine if it's just fibromyalgia.

Just sharing some of the things going on in our (my) life.

Hope.
Hoped that it would be an uplifting blog entry.  It's not.  Oh well.  It's okay.

Going outside as the sun is shining.  Maybe it'll help get the zippity-do-day back into our (my) world.

Peace

~Renee