Surreal duality

These past two weeks or so find me in a strange dual mode; researching next line treatments for my cancer while purging craft items I know I’ll never get to use, or sipping Nettle Leaf tea to help my white and red blood cells, while also donating clothes I’ll likely never wear again, and between appointments for scans and bloodwork, collecting file after file to be taken to a shredding service.

Yesterday, after the luck of finding a beloved lost earring with only minimal searching, and then getting an expedited brain MRI due to a cancellation, I thought about buying a lottery ticket. A jolt of truth hit when I realized that we don’t need the money; our retirement is set as one can be. I just have no time to share the joy of it.

You can’t buy time and there is no negotiating with cancer. Death, having a modicum of nobility, might play along with some give and take but cancer is a thug with no scruples. I loathe everything about it. Even the hard lesson of how precious our lives truly are comes at too high a cost for me; barely any time to employ it.

There are plans you entertain when you are in hope mode of having a year or so of progression free survival (PFS). But what the hell to do with only a couple of months? I, like others in my situation, don’t really want to jet off to exotic places and party like its the end of the world as we know it. First, time with loved ones is what is most precious; the every day normal acts of living are what ground us. Talking with my friends and telling them I love them seems more important than rockin’ selfies in some picturesque locale. Second, I’ve never felt so damn vulnerable. Going anywhere necessitates a “just in case” apothecary for side effects that would rival any anal-retentive parents’ diaper bag. Being hours away from a decent hospital is recklessly asking for trouble. Remember, cancer is a thug, poised to ruin any happy time just because it can. And it does.

Right now it feels like we are back to what my husband calls “treading water”. This isn’t optimal in anyone’s life but especially a shortened one. We have maybe two weeks before all the scans and blood work info is back and we meet with my Oncologist to see if there is any further treatment to attempt that is tolerable. I will try to stop treading and plan a few outings, visits with folks, fun life-affirming activities. But honestly, its a struggle. I witness life moving on without me and its angering. Its hard to be geared towards fun when you are pissed about dying and lonely to be the only dying person in the room. Also, there is so much I still have to cull, purge and donate so that my husband and friends don’t have to. I’m 64 years old, and we’ve lived in our lovely wee home for over 30 years. I’ve got stuff, much of it nice, some to be given to loved ones when I have strength enough to write out a list.

I would trade it all for more time instead. I think they would too. But, cancer.
Insert F bombs at will.