Thursday, March 22, 2012

Today's the day to begin anew

Yes, it is.  One year ago today, I spent the morning at the oncologist with the bad health news being delivered.  "It's worse than I originally thought.  I was hoping you had a form of anemia, but it isn't anemia.  You have Multiple Myeloma."  Joe and I sat there quietly at first and then Joe said he didn't know what MM was.  I did not know either but somehow I knew it was cancer.

Dr. Sims walked us step by step through the definition of MM, the different types, the treatment options, how he would prefer to proceed with me.  I heard some of what he said, but mostly his conversation was hovering out there all around me, not much sinking in.  I had one and only one question on my mind and I finally found the courage to ask it - "how long do I have to live?"  His response - "In the past it is been about 3 - 5 years, but there are so many new treatments and people are living much longer that it's difficult to keep on top of the data.  It's changing rapidly."  Somehow I felt relieved.  Then he noted, "We can start treatment in a few weeks.  I'm in this office on Tuesdays, so I'd start your treatment on a Tuesday.  Let this news settle in for a bit and then we can talk about starting treatment."  "No, thank you.  I'll start next Tuesday."

It's a bit of a blur thereafter.  I can't remember how I told our kids or how I told my sisters or my loved ones or my friends.  I remember Skyping my parents to tell them.  I was beating around the bush and my father came right out and said, "You have cancer.  Is that what you're trying to say?"  It was out and they were strong.  Actually so many people have been strong for me this past year.  I am truly grateful.  As it says on the homepage of my blog, it is the support and love of those around me that help me to stand up again every time I fall.

I admit to falling down recently.  As I've approached this 'anniversary' I've found myself wondering about my identity.  Who am I now?  I'm not the old Susan.  The old Susan didn't have sore and swollen hands and feet; she didn't worry about every ache and pain (though maybe she should have); she didn't take 10+ pills a day; she hiked; she worked out at the gym; she certainly didn't have this out of control hair!

Well, I did something about the hair.  A cut and color has made me look more like the old Susan, despite the continued curls and frizz (and the color is a little dark).  I guess that is a step forward.

Beyond that, I'm still in exploring mode.  What can I do to continue to heal this body?  What can I do for activity during the healing process?  How do I manage the daily annoyances of my feet and hands?  Will I ever get back to hiking those big White Mountains?  Those and other thoughts and questions fill my head these days.  I have spent much time in reflection.

But today is the day, the anniversary, the time to begin anew.  Here in NH it is an unseasonably bright and glorious day!  The temperature should be only in the 40s and 50s, but it will be mid 80s today.  I think it is a great day to slowly, slowly, very slowly begin to stand up.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

March Anniversaries

Tomorrow is March 15th, the Ides of March.  In history, the Ides of March is best remembered in the play Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.  In the play, the soothsayer - a fortune teller - warned Caesar to beware the Ides of March for it would be an ill-fated day.  And you may recall that indeed it was, as Caesar was stabbed to death by members of the Roman senate.

Jump ahead hundreds of year to March 15, 2011.  No soothsayers around that I could see and yet it turned out to be an ill-fated day for me.

On the morning of March 15th, I dragged my very tired body to a doctor's appointment.  I was greeted by a nurse who said, "You look awful!"  The doctor followed and said, "You look like you have jaundice."  Hmmm.  I wasn't wearing make-up and my vacation tan had faded, but did I really look that bad???  I obviously hadn't noticed.  After blood tests and an exam, I was sent home to await the results.  The call came at the end of the day - "It's not good news. Your blood counts are extremely low.  You need to go immediately to the ER.  They're waiting to give you a transfusion.  You need this transfusion."

I wish I could recall what I was thinking, but so much has occurred in a year's time that I just can't recall every detail.  I do remember going to the ER with Joe, and my sister Cindy arrived soon thereafter.  They sat with me as the transfusion began and stayed with me for hours.  As it was decided that I would be staying overnight and having another transfusion, Cindy left and I was brought up to my room.

And that was the beginning of my new life.  Yes, oh yes, beware the Ides of March.

Speed up a week - March 22nd - I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma.

Speed up another week - March 29th - I had my first chemo treatment.

As I've drawn closer to March 15, 2012, I've spent a fair amount of time reflecting on this past year.  I can hardly believe where the journey has taken me this year.  How many days and weeks did I go to the oncologist, snuggle into a recliner, cover myself with an afghan, and have Velcade and Dexamethasone pumped into me?  How did I manage living with a picc line, a port, a hickman line?  How did I get through the Cytoxan and the Melphalan?  How did I deal with the numb face, the sore and swollen hands and feet, the hair loss?

And the stem cell transplant.  The significant post-transplant restrictions.  The mask and gloves. The memory impairment.

I look in the mirror each morning and I'm reminded of how difficult the year was.  "Who is that woman looking back at me with the very curly black and very gray hair?  She looks so old."

I've been through a lot in a year.  I've been through a lot.

I try to hold on to what a fellow Multiple Myeloma blogger quotes in his blog:

"..I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it
is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the
secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or
hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through
Him who gives me strength." Phil 4:11-13

I recognized this in the woman reflected in the mirror with the very curly black and very gray hair who looks so old.  She is strong.