So much cancer, sigh ...

I'm fine.  The bumps on my head were cysts, I guess.  I don't know what caused them, but they disappeared as quickly as they appeared.  To be honest, I think Dr. Fox found me amusing, and I think my mother rolled her eyes (she and Jill both came with me this month).  My tumor markers are down to 55, which I can't figure out as a comparison number, but the down part is definitely a positive.  The last time he mentioned my tumor marker was a couple months ago, and he was pleased that it was down to the 200 something level.  That's my comparison, then. 

Every time I don't feel well, no matter what the cause, it seems that I'm never feeling well.  I get so annoyed by a runny nose or a sinus clog or back pain.  I start to feel sorry for myself, wondering when I ever get to feel well.  What the hell is wrong with me?  I have every reason under the sun to be grateful, and I'm the last person on earth who should complain about a runny nose.  So I have to get over myself, for sure.  Yeah, I do deserve to feel well.  Don't we all?  I'm lucky to be here, I'm lucky to ever feel well, and right now I do, in fact, feel well!

However, it seems I'm suddenly surrounded by instances of cancer.  Here are my prayer requests for Barbara, Kevin (a married couple), Sue, a lady at the hair salon, and Dayla.  Dayla and I met on a message board for people who started chemo for breast cancer in March 2009.  Until this past week, I was the only one in the group with a metastisis.  I think it was hardest for me to tell that group about myself, because I knew I was suddenly living all of their deepest fears.  But now Dayla, who will hopefully be the last to join our new unfortunate group, says she sees me as an example of a success story.  Let's hope she will be, too.  She lives a remarkable life, she has hiked the entire Appalachian Trail!

I can't stand to hear of new people getting diagnosed.  It's like I can physically see what they're about to endure, and these are wonderful people who should not have to endure it.  Barbara seemed stoic, Kevin is trying mightily for optimism, Sue is so nervous about the treatments, and the lady at the hair salon cried her eyes out as her hair was shorn.  I wasn't even there, but my hairdresser tried to calm her by telling her how thick and wonderful my hair was when it regrew (oh, remember those lovely, springy curls?).  This is not a great club, and yet it seems like people all around me are ending up here.  Unfortunately, my friend Valerie's mom departed the club on Friday after a long and valiant fight.

Cancer does suck, indeed.  It's so random, and it's so nasty.  It's fear and it's pain, and it steals something from everyone who is touched by it.  My Uncle Stan buried a wife (who was 45) and a son (who was 43) because of cancer, and now he's been on chemo for ages.  My next-door-neighbor lives in fear of recurrence after horrendous chemo treatments he endured for several months.  We bond over treatments.  I'd rather bond with him because we happen to have the same hairdresser (really, we do), and just because he's a nice neighbor.  Every one of you could tell me similar stories, couldn't you. More than half of my beloved email loop has lost at least one parent to cancer. 

Surviving cancer, however, is cool.  I don't know how long this surviving thing will last for me, but even the time I have right now feeling well is like a bonus.  Every time someone sympathetically asks how I'm feeling and I enthusiastically answer, "Great, actually!" I can see their eyes light up.  Getting to tell people that is so invigorating, it makes me want to keep doing well just so I can keep telling people I'm doing well!  For some, survival will last into old age.  Loved ones will be proud and relieved.  We don't get any guarantees, though.  Not yet.  So we need a cure.  Yeah, I would like to see that in my lifetime.  I'll put it on my bucket list!