The downside of being upbeat
The downside of being upbeat is that people believe me!
They ask how I am doing, and I say fine, meaning pretty well, considering that the surgery I am recovering from is more difficult to recover from than open heart surgery, and they hear, "Fine!" as in, fine, totally fine and back to my normal self.
Yesterday was a good day. What that meant was that I was able to go to Giant Eagle with Nathan for 3 items, then on to Marc's for about 20. By the time I was in line to pay, I had to go find a place to sit down while Nathan checked out. Then we went to CVS (Mensch, Greg says hello and congratulations) to order wedding photos and pick up a prescription. Then I had to go home and rest.
Now, I don't mean to be an alarmist, but my surgeon keeps telling me that "Pancreatic cancer is a Bad Cancer to have." My oncologist told me that my surgeon 'made a humungous effort' in the surgery. The radiologist told me I had an 'enourmous surgery.' It is beginning to sink in. I have carefully avoided websites devoted to pancreatic cancer -- precisely because the news/outlook is just not very good.
I guess the point I am finally getting is that just because I am recovering from the surgery pretty well, doesn't mean I am out of the woods yet. Not all the margins were clear. What that means is that they were unable to get 'clean (cancer-free) margins' around the tumor. This means, they really aren't quite sure they 'got it all.' They just couldn't go any deeper. They hit the back of my chest wall and had to stop. Now the chemo and radiation are designed to combat what was left.
But, frankly, the odds are still not great. I am not a gambler, being totally risk adverse. But if I were, this would still be a long shot. I wouldn't put my money on me. I am making plans as if I will live at least 5 years, maybe more, maybe forever, but I can't help but think about the 'other' possibility.
Barb T-Q offered some strangely comforting words the other day. She has worked at Hospice for over 20 years, so has seen a lot of patients in their final days, some with all the different kinds of cancers as well as other diseases. She did say that pancreatic cancer tends to not be terribly painful, so my quality of life would be pretty good up to the end. I did take comfort in that.
Comments
Yeah, I know. No, if you were a gambler, this wouldn't be a long shot - it would simply be a gamble. We non-gamblers only 'gamble' with the odds of like 100 of 100. You're not a lost cause, otherwise they wouldn't have done the surgery and they wouldn't follow up with chemo and radiation. That said, we've all just got to take what we can get. Will there ever be a time again when we won't simply be living for the next day? Will they ever say "you're clean"? Will they ever say "enjoy the next 5 years"? The planner in me wishes they would!
And don't read this as me being unrealistic or overly optimistic. Remember, I'm reading all those Web sites and articles you're so diligently avoiding.
If you ever have the opportunity to give some constructive criticsm to your doctors about those articles/web sites, I offer you this: you are not talking to doctors. You are talking to patients, families and caregivers. Do NOT start out with death statistics if you want us to actually keep reading.
Posted by: Mara | December 11, 2005 12:09 PM
When I was 18 I ocassionally bought a lottery ticket - the scratch off kind. I'm sure Alana remebers this. I would tell her that I only did it once in a while- which was true. I did not tell her about the rush I got when scratching off those little grey boxes. Eventually I saw the potential for the loss of lots of money and stopped buying them. But there is a gambler within - that is betting you Ma, realizing the risk and potential gain.
Posted by: Rae | December 11, 2005 1:07 PM
Maman,
A monk once asked one of the zen masters, "To a zen master, what are the mountains and the trees." To which the zen master replied, "A mountain is a mountain and a tree is a tree."
The way I read this is that, to one who is at peace with the world (i.e. no longer struggling to exert one's will on the world = detached), things do not change. There isn't a transcendent spiritual state or knowledge of a vast spiritual truth that alters the position and experience of the zen master. In other words, they are not living in a different reality from the rest of us.
Little has changed except that you've discovered what was previously unknown, there is a river in the mountain. You are no more mortal than I am, only you have a heightened awareness of the breathe that is life. The length of time that you will live has not changed, it has only changed in your mind, confounding your expectations. I feel that all that is asked of you in this situation is the reevaluation through which you are already going.
I love you Maman.
Posted by: Mendon | December 11, 2005 1:47 PM
Remember, I have been through this process from your side. I guess I worry about truth in advertising. I don't want to paint a darker picture than really is, but I do want you all to be informed. I think I would have made different choices if -- if what? If I had really understood my mother's situation? If I had believed her? I don't want any of you regretting decisions or wishing you had spent more time with me -- things I found myself doing after my mother died.
And then there are the other things I regret -- like the attic. Sorry, guys.
Posted by: ma | December 11, 2005 7:10 PM
:)
Posted by: Rachael | December 12, 2005 8:21 PM