A TURNING TIDE OF HOPE

 

 

Thursday, March 6, 2014 the wind changed direction. Wednesday night I was exhausted from going to work, appointments and anxiety. I was not in the frame of mind to say "I give up" but, rather, "I need to retreat". I went to bed around 6:30 P.M. , called work and left a message that I was not going to be in on Thursday. At the time I felt like I wouldn't be in Friday, either. Maybe not Monday or Tuesday, as well. I put a log in the fireplace and stepped over all the dead piles of bees in the bedroom - I was disturbed that they were dead, not that they were there. I opened the balcony door and let the cool air in. I sent Joe a text that I was going to bed and not to work for a couple days. My exact text was, "Im going to bed. Don't know if I will go to work tomorrow or Friday. I am tired and feeling particularly bad right now". Joe, "okay". Icing on the cake. A friend from work called and wanted to know why I was going to bed so early and I started to cry. I didn't want to cry, but I did. I felt stupid for dumping such emotion. We talked for a minute and I ended the conversation and went to sleep. Restless with nightmares my Thursday morning was as bleak as every other day. I took Natalia to school (a pleasure I haven't been able to do in months!) and came home. I sat on the couch and had an overwhelming sense to clean out my purse and do the dishes. I cleaned my purse first and cried. I dropped something or put something in a wrong pile and I immediately felt like it had to be right. I couldn't leave the paper on the floor until I was done - I had an annoying feeling that it just wasn't right to leave it. In the front pocket I found the WWII MARKSMAN'S MEDAL OF MY DAD'S. I removed it from the plastic Ziploc baggie and let the pins on the back (without frogs) pierce my fingers. I squeezed it tight and cried to him that I was so sorry if he felt meaningless at the time of his death. If he felt no one loved him or cared about him - especially, me. I told my mom I was sorry, I know, now, what she needed most was to know that I loved her and I didn't want to be anywhere else but there with her. I wanted her to know she was meaningful and that I was sorry if she felt she wasn't. I cried so hard I choked and nearly vomited. I prayed God would forgive me and would comfort me. My mother's face was sadness before me. She was sad that I was going through what she went through. It unnerved her. My father let a tear fall down his cheek and said they were there with me and would be there as long as I needed. God wrapped me in a blanket and dried my tears. I read daily devotionals given to me by Ethel, a wonderful woman at church who is nearing the end of her breast cancer treatment. I prayed for her and Laverne (another sweet woman at church who is a breast cancer survivor). I prayed for all of us and for those that hurt because of my cancer. Minutes - hours...I don't know how much time passed but my body was ready to move. I put my father's medal in a jewelry box and back into the pocket of my purse. I started moving. I washed the dishes and vacuumed the floors, wiped the tables and put things away. When I was done I went to Hart Park and walked up the nature trail to Hart Mansion. Along the way there was the graveyard for William S. Hart's two beloved dogs and lots of signs to beware of rattlesnakes. The mansion tour was a group of 2; me and the tour guide. A beautiful ranch home on acres and acres of property. Lovely. My tour guide told me to take the paved path down and I could see the Bison that are descendants of the originals gifted to Hart by Walt Disney. I crawled down the dirt hill along the fence and was 2 feet from a group of 10 or 12. They didn't blink or acknowledge I was there but, I was there, staring at Bison 2 feet away! One in the back of the group moved slightly and the rest lurched forward toward the fence where I crouched. It didn't scare me and I didn't run. The dirt cloud and heavy pounding on the ground, shuffle of bison, snorts, etc. made sense. In that moment the Bison made sense when nothing else did. After a time I continued down the path and visited a few other animals. There was cow, leaning against her shelter with large growths over her body. Her eyes would close for a few seconds and then she would shift and open them. I felt an overwhelming desire to hug her - the fence between us made that impossible but, I tell myself she would have been grateful.

 

When I returned home the house was not a dark cave isolated from civilization but, a really nice place full of light and air. Shortly after, Dr. Schmit called and asked how I was. He chuckled when I said "up and down"...not sure why but, oh well. He told me that the rest of the biopsy results were in as well as all the imaging I had done during the week and he said "I'm going to have to side with your significant other on this, right now". What??? I bit my tongue unintentionally and said "why?". He said the results show the tumor is localized and the lumpectomy with radiation and chemo would be an effective treatment. I was stunned! Happy and stunned!! The left breast has absolutely nothing going on. It is perfectly healthy with no cysts, calcifications, shifting tissue - nothing! He went on to say with the test results it would be a slim chance it was hereditary but there were concerns with my age and the unknown family history of my mother that if I wanted to be cautionary, I should still have it done. Cindy scheduled my appointment. I have some family member that are adamant that I should not have this test. They are loud and uncompromising and gossiping unkindly. Negative and blasting, "Only Jewish people carry that mutated gene", "Mom had the blood test it was negative", "yours is in the opposite breast", "she was in her late 60's" and other equally ignorant remarks. With support like that who needs Norman Bates. Yes, please, stab me some more. Well, as I ponder over the intense disgust they feel concerning my decision to have the genetic testing I have been told it is because I am meaningless and insignificant in their lives. They do not care enough about me to care if this unnecessary ridiculousness creates distress - in fact, they are hoping that it does. What does that tell you? Right now, what does that say?? I know what it says. The comments and angry discussion and crazy gossiping only made me question motive. It didn't bother me or distress me - I am fighting for my life and that shit is not going to persuade any decision I make except the only decision relative - stop giving them updates. They don't care! Can you imagine?! I can't imagine telling my mother that any test or treatment was stupid and unnecessary. I loved her too much. I would never challenge a decision made by a sister when she was battling cancer. It is invasive and down-right evil! Sharks circling the body struggling to stay afloat are not there to support they are there to eat! No thanks.

 

I came to terms with my desperation. Church and family (other than the Bates') have been so prevalent and loving that I have been able to calm the feelings of the extreme need to be hugged, coddled, nurtured and cared about by the empty faces of people. Friday, I went to work. I felt better than I had since feeling the crush of the cancer wrecking ball. My friend (that called Thursday night) called me in the afternoon and hesitantly asked how I was doing. I said, pretty good, really. I am at work. "Really?? You came to work?" The relief was palpable.

 

When I picked up Nat she suggested City Walk. We went and walked around, played arcade games and I recorded in a karaoke booth (bucket list!). It was empty and rather boring but we enjoyed ourselves, anyway.

 

No log on the fire....sleep came easily.