Well, it's finally over with. I finished Radiation on Friday. My skin feels like I have the worst sunburn ever, and under my arm is so swollen it's hard to actually find a comfortable way to sleep, but as far as my cancer battle plan... the worst is over with. I have an appointment to go to the UNC cancer hospital for a consultation the first week of June. We are getting a second opinion there on our next course of action. The possibilities are taking Tykerb (a chemo pill) or the new treatment, scheduled to be approved on June 8th, or who knows. My oncologist is gung-ho for me to have a second set of eyes look at my records to see what will be the best way to keep me in remission for as long as possible. I am glad she is not one of those doctors who thinks she knows all the answers, but instead she is the type who wants some extra eyes looking for a solution.
I got to ring the bell (a tradition at the hospital... you ring the bell in the hall when you are done) and it was very emotional for me. They gave me a certificate, some mardi gras beads and a pin that says "survivor". I went in that day not wanting to do it... ring the bell, that is. I just wanted to get radiated and go home. Part of me is kinda superstitious about things like that. I think I was afraid to ring my bell and say I am done, only to have to go back and do it again. Like when you say something and then knock on wood. In the back of my head is this voice constantly telling me to never say things like it's gone, or that I am in remission because the way my luck runs... well... you know... I just keep expecting to hear more bad news. Funny thing is that I am okay with it. The knowledge that it is only remission and not a cure means that I am sort of free. I can let small stuff go. After all, why get worked up about anything at this point... I am terminally ill and really... what is anything compared to that?
But back to the being emotional thing... I sat in the car and cried a little. Not a lot. I really haven't cried a lot since the day I was diagnosed. In fact, I think I have cried less since I was diagnosed than I did before I had cancer. But I did cry a little Friday. Mainly, it was relief. I have been through so much since October 12th when I heard those words no woman wants to hear, and I am still standing. My relationship with my wife is still strong- stronger than before cancer. My relationships in general are all better than before. Life has become a whole lot more important to me. I feel more connected. I feel more in touch with the spiritual. I have a greater thirst for living. I am waiting impatiently for my body to heal enough to go out and have fun. My thought is... if the average life expectancy for IBC is 5 years... well then, what things can I do in that time?
One thing I can do is keep talking to other women about IBC and encourage them to talk to their friends about it. I can spread the word, educate and encourage the women I love to go get screened. I can hug any person who needs it. I can answer questions. I can speak about my experiences. I can share. I can give thanks. But most importantly... I can love and be loved.
I got to ring the bell (a tradition at the hospital... you ring the bell in the hall when you are done) and it was very emotional for me. They gave me a certificate, some mardi gras beads and a pin that says "survivor". I went in that day not wanting to do it... ring the bell, that is. I just wanted to get radiated and go home. Part of me is kinda superstitious about things like that. I think I was afraid to ring my bell and say I am done, only to have to go back and do it again. Like when you say something and then knock on wood. In the back of my head is this voice constantly telling me to never say things like it's gone, or that I am in remission because the way my luck runs... well... you know... I just keep expecting to hear more bad news. Funny thing is that I am okay with it. The knowledge that it is only remission and not a cure means that I am sort of free. I can let small stuff go. After all, why get worked up about anything at this point... I am terminally ill and really... what is anything compared to that?
But back to the being emotional thing... I sat in the car and cried a little. Not a lot. I really haven't cried a lot since the day I was diagnosed. In fact, I think I have cried less since I was diagnosed than I did before I had cancer. But I did cry a little Friday. Mainly, it was relief. I have been through so much since October 12th when I heard those words no woman wants to hear, and I am still standing. My relationship with my wife is still strong- stronger than before cancer. My relationships in general are all better than before. Life has become a whole lot more important to me. I feel more connected. I feel more in touch with the spiritual. I have a greater thirst for living. I am waiting impatiently for my body to heal enough to go out and have fun. My thought is... if the average life expectancy for IBC is 5 years... well then, what things can I do in that time?
One thing I can do is keep talking to other women about IBC and encourage them to talk to their friends about it. I can spread the word, educate and encourage the women I love to go get screened. I can hug any person who needs it. I can answer questions. I can speak about my experiences. I can share. I can give thanks. But most importantly... I can love and be loved.
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