Thursday, November 6, 2014
Day 30: One month In
We are in waiting mode. I hate waiting. As Dr. Suess would say, "And then you come to the dreaded waiting place." Waiting for an answer. Waiting for a treatment day. Waiting for a treatment plan. Waiting for information. Waiting for a doctor. Waiting for results. Waiting for news. Waiting to heal. Waiting for a moving date. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Right now, we have to wait for our move. My doctor here won't start me on treatment in the middle of the move, and my doctor in the new place won't make a decision until I get there on what that treatment will be. We have gone from "you must get there by the beginning of December to start treatment--you can't wait!" to "We'll make a decision about your treatment when you get here. Just let us know." To say this is conflicting messaging is an understatement.
I have two very different doctors with two different opinions on what to do and neither of them gives me any sort of peace. So, I am pulling on God for patience, because God knows I have none of my own. And I sit in this waiting place, where one doctor seems very comfortable with waiting and watching for me to become symptomatic and all I want to do is kick this parasite out of my body as fast as I can. If I could claw it out of my chest I would. Watching and waiting doesn't resonate with me for a number of reasons. And I disagree with them completely when they say I am assymptomatic.
One doctor would start treatment in 2-4 weeks. She would treat me if I was not moving--but moving gets me closer to family and help and good schools and a good job for my husband. And since my cancer is so slow growing and indolent, the move doesn't seem impossible. But then I wait some more. And wait and hear things like "this cancer isn't curable." "We'll get you in remission but you'll relapse." And my mind gets spun up on "this is my life now," and, "this is not how it's supposed to be."
And then there is the other doctor. The one I haven't met yet. The one I am putting my faith, and trust, and life in her hands that I have not seen. I am putting my faith in a woman from 2000 miles away and hoping that she will see me as a person and not a patient. I am clinging to this belief that she will fight for me as hard as I am fighting to live a life with my family without cancer. I have to hope and pray that I am not just another clinical trial to her. I have to hope and pray that she will have my best interest at heart and that she will become one with my cancer posse. I have to pray that God has this all under control because I have NONE of it under control.
I'm in a roller coaster in my mind, my heart, my spirit, my soul and my body. I am either high or low and I struggle to find the equilibrium. And each day I walk. I walk to get myself off of that high or out of that low. And I walk to pray and I pray to continue to be able to walk. And I wonder, wonder wonder what my life will be like. This waiting place makes you feel like you are in a stuck place.
And I still just want it to go away. People, I have plans, and cancer wasn't in any of them. And it
still isn't. I want this crap out of my body now. And this makes waiting a tortuous place.
So the questions you are asking: "What's the plan?" "What's next?" "What are you going to do?" I don't have answers. Because no one can seem to tell me what the plan will be. We will move and then we will hopefully find out what it next. And so I wait, and I pray. Maybe in this interim of waiting, God will make my cancer go away. Maybe God has bigger plans for me than I can understand. I still pray for the cancer to go away. I know God hears me. I am learning to wait and see what those answers will be.