How did the entire day go by? I was trying to peel away and be with you from the moment I cracked my peepers and I said hola purdy world - I love you. Five years ago today my fancy big life was pushed into the shallow grave of oh well, never mind, not this time toots, you’re a sick person now. I banged my fists and fell into a puddle of tears and then I said, “fuck that!”
Fast forward. If I only knew then what I know now. Yesterday I handed in the final copy of my second book and I feel great. I had to giggle and say, “wow, look how far you've come, sassy cat.” Think about it: without the "little c," I would never have met and fallen madly for you or my hubby. Nothing means more to me.
OK, so enough gushies, you've all been chomping at the bit for the news. So without further adieu....
I haven't actually been the most honest cancer cowgirl.
Confession time: Remember when I was on Oprah? Two weeks later I landed in the hospital. Pneumonia. I had pushed it to the limit. As Brian sometimes says, I write “do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do” self-help books.
There I was, hooked up to a ventilator-like thing and editing my article for Natural Health Magazine. It was 3 in the morning and I started to laugh so hard it hurt the puss in my lungs. Enter my aha - something’s gotta give – moment: Cancer isn’t killing you, the Crazy Sexy Cancer Industrial Complex IS! In walks the doctor, “WOW your chest x-rays revealed some serious stuff.” “Yeah, yeah, I know its cancer, relax; can I get out of here?” The girl who never takes an aspirin loaded up with drugs and took off in our pickup truck.
Cut to last month, my big annual scan (I was really nervous so I kept it to myself). What if it's worse? How can I lead my family if I'm tanking? Stress is bad and I’d been bathing in it. What if there are tumors in my toes, nose and all my bits and pieces!?!
Lay your burden down girl - it is what it is and you are healing. I touched the scan bed like I do before I strut on a plane and I prayed. Prayed hard.
In walks my groovy oncologist, Dr. D. He hugs Brian (who's closer to the door) and while locked in embrace, Doc happily says, "things look better than ever” Huh? Yup. In fact, my lungs look great. Most of the beauty marks on my liver are a bit smaller. Maybe it was my position on the scan bed, maybe it's no big deal, but to me it means a lot. Nothing is in my nose, toes etc. However, a few of the tumors do look slightly bigger. But since I have 24+ tumors, this was great news.
But I want to give the right impression. One Dr (not mine) told me that I am "dangerous" - my message is dangerous. What if people stop going to chemo because of you Kris? You have no idea if you are helping your body at all - no proof.
Hmmm. I reminded him that my message is about self empowerment and by no means do I advocate an either or mentality - that's what you do sir. I encourage both worlds to come together and for patients to see beyond their illness and make and plan a healthy life anyway.
With slow moving dormant cancer it's hard to see tangible progress, hard core proof. I'm a patient patient though and I choose to look at small victories (no substantial growth and some regression) as an enormous accomplishment. Makes me happy. Makes me drink more green juice.
Whether it’s the nature of my disease or the nature of my choices, here I am: still strong, still stable. I’m doing the best I can. Remember, healing (and/or curing) takes place in a centrifugal force. You have to stop it before you can turn it around. I think of all of you and I see myself as an amalgamation of your experiences. Good bad, happy sad, here we are, so let's go!
Now for the freakiest news. Dr. D thinks that my stability is stronger than ever and therefore it’s OK to chat about next steps. Yup, you were right, crazy sexy MOMMY!
Until Brian, I never thought momminess would be for me. I used to see kids as very short people who scream in restaurants. Now for some reason I look at them and my knees get gooey. Brian is a natural, if you could see him with wee ones, you'd know how special a mini B and Me could be. And to be honest, I think a little vegan revolutionary would make me damned proud.
So here we are at the top of the mountain. No one else with my cancer has ever had chicklings – not that the top doctors in the world know of. I'd be the first. Gulp. And yet I know its gonna be OK. Am I nuts? It's a lot to think about and we do not take this lightly.
Thank you for allowing me to chat. Thank you for caring. You are my inner circle and you've made Valentine's Day magical.
Peace and hearts, champagne in the morning too…
PS. Dhrumil is still working like a maniac. Hang tight, our playground is almost open.
Happy belated Valentine's day!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Posted by cancer cowgirl xo at 9:25 AM