Musical Theme for Whole Brain Radiation

Today it begins.

Reflections, Reconsiderations, and Eating Crow

Recently, I found out that I have 30 spots of cancer in my brain and that they are growing – slowly – but still growing.

My option?  Whole Brain Radiation. The queen bee of things I’ve been dreading and hoping that I would never be asked to consider. I used to believe that if it ever actually became a thing that I had to do, I would absolutely refuse and accept death.

Life is funny, the way it works to make you feel like a boob.

In the recent past, and in this blog even, I have spoken about people who take horrible treatments and who fight to the bitter end as if their decision was stupid. Well, I can say now that that came from a place that was puffed up, prideful,  terribly short-sighted and not at all compassionate.

The truth is that when my reality involves and “okay, you can go through potentially horrible treatment, OR you can die in fairly short order in a horrible way,” I choose the potentially horrible treatment that terrifies me. Not because I am brave, but because I am afraid. Going through treatment I believe, although billed as the nobler and braver choice, is truly the opposite. Saying no to treatment and facing death – that’s absolute bravery.

I hear this song in my head (totally unrelated to the tumors):

Cowardly, cowardly custard!
Can’t cut the mustard!

 

 

So now I eat my crow. I can’t not do it - the radiation. I’m not ready to die yet. So I understand now. Why people keep seeking treatment. They’re not ready, either.

At what point (if any), I will be ready, I don’t know.

In the meantime, WBR, here I come.

Mood for the Day

A Picture is Worth 1000 Words

God and Coincidences…or are they?

In the past, I have been a doubter. Although I have deep faith in God and that he has infinite love for every person whether they believe in him or not, when something coincidental happens, I am more and more likely to take a second look at God’s hand in the matter. Some coincidences are TOO coincidental.

For example, last Monday morning before my scan, I was telling KB that I was feeling low (actually, he told ME I was feeling low after hearing me sighing over and over and seeing me sit on the (closed) toilet seat with my head in my hands for an unusually long period of time.). I told him that I was feeling very isolated and alone, and having a bit of a hard time coping at the moment. We both know that it comes with the cancer territory.

So I’m going through my morning in this pre-scan, depressed fog. I go to my appointment, go to the changing room and change out of my clothes and into my two dressing gowns (one open to the back the other open to the front). I grab my barium smoothies and head out into the waiting room area and I almost bypassed the one with three women talking animatedly, but decided to sit with them.

They were all talking about cancer. All three of them had cancer (or had had cancer). One had recurrent breast cancer and was now stage IV, one had a sort of muscle sarcoma that had recurred and was not stage IV, and one had had bone cancer but was there to support her friend who had the muscle sarcoma. Once I heard what their topic of conversation was I piped right in and started asking questions and contributing my experiences.

It was so spontaneous. Genuine. Raw and real.

I’m not sure if you tried, you could repeat the experience.

Anyway, we all had our scans and parted with kind words. When I left, I left my dark clouds behind, too. I felt deeply peaceful.

Now the doubter in me says, this was just a happy coincidence. My faith tells me that, just as we lose no hair without God being aware of it, God meant for me to be there, to feel the support, to know that I am neither alone nor isolated.

God’s keeping tabs on me.

And he’s keeping tabs on you, too.

God’s peace.

Blessings

I can say it no better. 

Shhhhhh....

listen.

The Gaping Maw of Death

My blog posts do not just to burst forth in a moment of thought or creativity. I start thinking about them, the topic, the content, the accompanying artwork, days or even weeks before I put pen to paper (so to speak).

A few days ago, I had just gone onto my blog to check for spelling, grammar, or other errors. As I re-read the post (which was about actual deaths) I started to think about my usual topics - death and cancer and having the knowledge that you’re going to die in relatively short order. 

Now everyone knows that they’re going to die eventually, but knowing that instead of those forty to fifty years you thought you had left to play with and in, you only have a few years, tops. And you don’t feel much like playing. So you are left, and I thought this was clever, staring into the “gaping maw of death.”

Now, I’ve been running around the Internet long enough to know that truly original ideas are very, VERY rare. As much as we all like to think that we are unique and special, people come up with the same thoughts and ideas all of the time. And sure enough, if you google, “gaping maw of death” and you will get 6300 results, which to me means that it is fairly common.

Many people with cancer and other progressive diseases are stood upright in front of death and made to truly stare into that gaping maw and consider the implications. What does it mean to be dead? Is it total annihilation of the self where we only ‘live on’ in the memories of others and the odd photo (or blog ;) left behind, or is there an actual piece of us, some energy (a soul) that leaves and goes elsewhere (heaven, hell, the eternal cosmos, absorbed into some great energy of the universe). Who has it right? Catholics? Protestants? Pentecostals? Jews? Muslims? Atheists? Mormons? Resuscitologists (see book by Sam Parnia), Scientologists (please no)?

That’s the hardest and most frightening part of death. We just don’t know and can’t know until we leap into that open, dark, slimy maw. And so we’re left with a choice. Which idea of death do we want to hang on to? Which one is the easiest for us to live with? I was raised a Christian and so that is the idea that is the most comfortable fit, although not the usual heaven as angels and harps and everyone dressed in white, yada, yada, yada. The idea of the afterlife as going home is very appealing to me.

We’ve all been away from home for periods of time long enough to feel a sort of relief upon returning to our own abode.

Letting go. Finally. Peace.

This is what I choose. This is what I hope for.

Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him. ~ Job 13:15