Back on the Blog.

Dear All,

This has been the longest "pause" in my blog writing, and I have to say that I have missed "connecting" greatly. I wish I could say that my silence has been because I have been busy "living it up", but the truth is that that past couple of weeks have been unexpectedly challenging. That being said, I am much better now, and that's all that matters....!

Two weeks ago or so, I began to experience pains in my lower back (I mentioned it in my last blog posting). I thought I must have picked up James awkwardly, or sat badly, or maybe it was an issue of posture as I had chosen to wear heels, which I rarely do these days. I also had a sore throat, so I thought I may be fighting a cold. Anyway, the pain came and went, and then spread to different areas, which was puzzling. By Friday February 4th, I was in bed, with hot packs, and a combo of intense dull aches and then shooting pains. By Saturday, I had a low grade fever, and went to the hospital to be checked out. I was sent home, after bloodwork. By Sunday afternoon, however, I was a mess. Fever was back, and the pain was intensifying. Chiara went with me back to the hospital, and in the space of an hour, I went from needing codein to having to be given morphine. My whole back, from tailbone to rib cage was spasming - I can only describe the pain as similar to the contractions I had when giving birth to James.... except this time, I was not getting the wonderful result of a beautiful baby at the end of it! I was admitted to hospital, and spent the next four nights there. The pain and spasms came and went. The team questioned an infection, musculoskeletal inflammation, kidney stones.... I had them stumped. Of course, my mind panicked thinking that it was cancer related, but the team was consistent in feeling that this was not bone-generated pain, and an ultrasound came back "clear" as to no new cancer spots. Admittedly, having the ultrasound was emotionally brutal. I lay there on the examining table, as the doctor put gel on my stomach and began to "explore"..."That organ seems fine, so does that, I see the involvement of the liver which you know of...." I tried so hard to fight back the tears but failed: the last time I had had an ultrasound, Julian was sitting with me, and we were looking at the screen at the image of a baby boy inside of me. One of the happiest moments of my life. Now here I was, avoiding looking at the screen altogether, as the doctor searched for cancer, confirmed existing cancer spots... it was a frightening and truly demoralising experience. Your life really can change dramatically from one day to the next, can't it?

I was discharged home in the middle of last week, and 48 hours later, I started Cycle #21 of chemo. I expected it to be similar to the first round of this new regimen, but it wasn't. It knocked me down and surprised me... the dreaded "chemo coat" was back. And I panicked. It has been 9 months since I had felt that "chemo coat" feeling, and reliving it again was truly depressing and scary. The feeling of your body dying from the inside out, the feeling of someone pulling the plug on your inner energy,... that weight that seems to smother you. Awful nausea, drenching night sweats. I realised how I had pushed all that to the back of my mind, and yet how intensely all the emotions and fears could be so easily revived by this "poison". Chiara, Julian and Anthony rallied around me, and I had my dear friend Eve visiting for a few days, who helped greatly with getting me through it. Many melt downs, much anxiety, frequent negative thoughts.... and then, a couple of days ago, the coat finally lifted, and I began to feel my body come to life again. Relief. I can only describe it as relief, when you feel your "inner being" pick itself up from the floor and feel strong enough again to stand up straight.

I feel good today. I went out for a walk this morning, and felt energised and "well". The woman in the mirror who looks back at me seems fine - she has colour in her cheeks, hair on her head, and determination in her eyes. If you were to see me walking down the street, you simply wouldn't know that I was sick. And that is what I continue to tell myself. 21 rounds of chemo and I am back up on my feet again. I focus on the number of chemo treatments I have had not for self-pity but, quite the contrary, in a positive way. "You've had 21 chemos!" I tell myself, "21!! And look at you. Dismiss the preconceptions of what you should look like at this point after all this treatment. Be a testament to how strong your body can be in this fight." Chiara tells me that this is a war of attrition.... there will come a day when the cancer will simply say, "Okay, I've had it. You win. You've proved a point. I'm done dragging this out...." What a day that will be. In the meantime, I keep on running this marathon, step by step, day by day.

While I was having my chemo, there was a woman sitting in the chair next to me, getting her own treatment. We struck up a conversation, and she told me that she had been diagnosed in October, that this was her sixth and final chemo session, and that her breast cancer had responded beautifully to treatment, to the point that it was hardly detectable, although they were going to proceed nonetheless with surgery. She was in her 60's, and spoke about how depressing and anxiety provoking she had found this process. She then asked me about me, and I shared my story. Her eyes grew wide... "How do you cope?" she asked me, "You look so cheerful". Coping.... it's such a personal word, isn't it? I cope because I refuse the alternative as an option. I cope because I have wonderful troops and an amazing family and a fabulous support system. I cope because I believe that I deserve, and will cross, that finish line. Coping can mean feeling strong and positive one day, and it can mean hanging on for dear life on another day. For me, coping is staying in the marathon. As I watched the Winter Olympics last night, many athletes "wiped out", with "DNF" (Did Not Finish) on the scoreboard. That will not be me.

Other news... I am making more "changes" in my life that will enable me to focus more directly on my health. I am putting my clinical work once again on more of a "hold". While the phone keeps ringing off the hook with referrals, and while I love what I do, I realise that I need to step away from it so that I can worry less about my schedule, my clients, the impact of unexpected changes in my health on appointments.... Yes, I will book the occasional family, but for the moment, my health, my family, my well-being will be all that matters. Work will be the afterthought. And while it has been hard for me to shift to this, having got back in the work saddle in the autumn, I have learned that I must be flexible to change, to the ebb and flow that life circumstances throw at me, and that nothing needs to be set in stone. So, this is the part of my marathon when I try to stop worrying about the crowd around me, and try to better focus on my breath, my pace, my body. Allowing myself more "me" time, and accepting the ever changing portrait of who "me" is.

I am so looking forward to spring. Bring on the pom pom blossoms, the daffodils, the crocuses, the freshness in the air that marks awakenings and new beginnings. It is one of my favourite times of year. Spring is full of possibility.

And if all the warmth that I have received of late in emails and messages could be converted into solar energy, we'd be skipping Spring altogether and we'd be in the throws of a heat wave of Summer. Thank you for your unfaltering love and support.

Hugs to all.