Crazy Sexy Cancer

OK, yeah, that title is a bit weird.

But I watched a show last night on TLC, called exactly that.

The one overwhelming thing I came away with right away, is an old cliche. There is someone ALWAYS worse off than you. In this case, me, not you.

When you first get told (in my case by phone) that yes, it is indeed cancer, the very word alone is a metaphor for death, desolation, horror, sadness, you name it, insert your adjective here. Your immediate thoughts are when will I die? How much time do I have left? Will I make it to Christmas? Should I start getting my affairs in order? Go on a wild vacation I know I will never live to pay for?

Then, how did I get this when no one in my family has ever had it? Was it something I did? Didn't do? Ate? Drank? Inhaled, was it the air in New York?

Some people can't handle it, freak, cry all day long, stay in bed, whatever. Strangely I didn't do any of those things. EXCEPT when I was in the surgeon's office. This guy missed his calling; he could have been a successful Shakespearean actor. Drama doesn't even touch what this guy is like. He scared the crap out of me to such a point, I had 2 panic attacks in his office, and this is before I even had any treatment.

Other than that, I really didn't cry. And I am an emotional basket case, who sits and cries over ASPCA commercials. I think what saved me from a life of constant crying and hand wringing was the fact that I decided *I* had to be strong for everyone else. As you all know my dad had passed away only a few months before, my mom was alone and grieving and I knew if my husband saw ME fall apart, there was no hope for him. So rather than sit around and cry and feel sorry for myself, I had to keep up a brave exterior for everyone else, which, believe you me, can be quite exhausting.

Back to the show, sorry, I get sidetracked so easily.

This poor woman had to be 20 years younger than me, and she 24 tumors. On her liver, lungs and various other places. Stage 4 right off the bat, incurable. She tried everything, weird diets, all veg diets, going away to hollistic 'camps', eating wheat grass, wheat grass enemas (I don't even want to go here), yoga, acupuncture, all kinds of alternative meds, you name it. In the end, her cancer was stabilized and wasn't getting bigger, as in tumors getting bigger. But it's inoperable, stage 4, incurable.

It was then I realized just how fucking lucky I really am.

Yes, I have cancer, but not for much longer. I will have surgery in September, and have the cancer cut out of me. Yes, my breasts will be then be different sizes, but I will have 2 breasts. All my scans, ultrasounds, blood tests and various other tests, enough to fill a football stadium are all negative to a T. My primary diagnosis was also the 'best' it could be, as it were. ER+/PR+, HER2-. Meaning, open to chemo, and a slow moving non aggressive cancer. BRCA tests normal/negative, no where else in my body.

I will survive this, and as they said in the show, and no one can appreciate this unless you have cancer, in a funny way you look back on all the horrors of the treatment, chemo being absolute torture; the effect it has on your body cannot be described in the English language without using some choice 4 letter words. Your body is falling apart, and ravaged by this treatment; you realize how strong you really are. What's that saying, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Well, it's true.

Maybe I was also fortunate to have so much to keep me occupied. My dad left such a horror show of finances, it took me over 6 months to straighten it out, I've had to do just about everything for my mom, as she is simply helpless. Partly from mourning and partly because she never ever did a thing her whole married life as in bills, finances, etc. Every little thing has been left to me, paying all his bills, her bills, doing their taxes, calling debtors, cemetaries, funeral homes, social security, the veteran's admin., et al. So every single day I had a constant flow of activity, that had absolutely not thing ONE to do with cancer. So I never had the time to sit and cry and pout and wail, poor poor me.

Until we started getting the bills, of course. What this surgery is gonna cost, I don't dare even speculate. It will be the ruin of us, but you can't get blood from a rock, and as long as I pay them something every month, they can 't throw me in jail or take my house, and make us live on the street or car.

The moral of the story, boys and girls, is there is always someone out there a helluva lot worse off than you. Yes, yes, as the bear on the right declares, CANCER SUCKS, but it does make you stronger, and I think all things considered I dodged a huge bullet.

When this is all over, I will then have the rest, peace and lazy days I have deprived myself off since being diagnosed in March, actually since my dad died in December. I can look back and say I got through the death of my dad, whom I loved very much, straightened out a labrinyth of bills he left, made life somewhat bearable for my mom, never ever took a day off from my responsibility to her, took care of my cat, paid all my bills, didn't fall apart in front of husband, you get the drift.

I promised my dad I would take care of everything at the funeral. And come September 13th, I will have reached the end of that promise. That is the day the closing takes place on my parents' summer house, I can then pay the 2 remaining bills my mom has, and my promise is fulfilled.

Maybe then I will fall apart, who knows. But for now, after watching Crazy Sexy Cancer, wherein 5 different women had 24 tumors in her liver, lungs etc, Hodgkins Lymphoma, re occuring breast cancer, Leukemia and bone cancer, I consider myself lucky.

When can you consider yourself a cancer survivor? Today. I'm still here, aren't I?

Now if only my damn hair would come back...