If the new chemo treatments don't work, Dr T said I probably have less than a year to live. Maybe just 6 months.
That seems unbelievable to me, because most of the time I feel healthy. A few aches and pains, this week I have a dry cough and throat, but I don't feel as if I'm dying. I'm working full time, getting things done around the house, running errands, and just living my life as usual.
"Dying in 6 months" sounds as if I should be limited in my activities, having multiple days where I don't feel well, lethargic, disinterested in life. And that's just not what's happening.
The weekend after the trabectedin chemo was bad, true. And the following week was not pleasant, as detailed in my previous post. But that was just the chemo working its way through my body. And I was back to normal in about a week.
The physical problems are manageable, and not constant. But the emotional aspects of dealing with terminal cancer are harder for me. And that's a daily challenge.
Every day, I look at something and wonder if I'll be here a year from now to see that again. Along the path I walk for lunch at work are some rhododendrons that in the spring have small, light pink, delicate flowers with ruffly edges. So pretty. At this time of year, no blooms. And as I walk next to the rhodies I wonder if I'll ever see those flowers again. Brings tears to my eyes sometimes.
I wonder if this will be my last Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years Day. And my birthday is the day after Christmas - will this be my last one? I'll be 57 - is that the end number?
When I allow myself to think about my situation, the tears flow uncontrolled. Just now at home I wheeled in the big recycle bin from the street, back to the side of the garage. I looked around at the trees, the clouds, the flowers in the hanging basket, the calla lily leaves that are now drooping across the walk near the front door.
I think about the sweet little rose buds I saw last week, and the beautiful skies of Oregon.
I'm not ready to leave my home. I'm not ready to leave this world. I want more time.
A couple of weeks ago, when I called my aunt and cousin to tell them about the cancer recurrence, my aunt asked if I needed anything, if there was something she could send to me. Did I want some clothes?
I said no, I don't want more things. All I want is more time.
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