Taking Time

I haven't written in 21 days. 

That's 3 weeks.  

I have been a bit stuck, and quiet which for me is a bit rare.  

I am in limbo. 

I found out on Tuesday that my final diagnosis is Stage 1 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, ER+, PR+, HER2-. I know that is a lot of gobbeldy gook, but in the end it means that  I will be getting 4 weeks of radiation and will be put on a hormone blocker for either 5 or 10 years of my life and will have many of the effects of menopause without actually being in menopause.  For the most part, it's a good diagnosis and it hasn't spread which is very positive. 

In two weeks I will make the final decision on whether or not to do chemotherapy based on the results of a test that has been sent to California which will tell us more about the possibility of recurrence.  I am seriously hoping for good results. I don't want to do chemotherapy. 

In the mean time, I take my time to think and to live. I do what is important to me.  I create art and live as fully as I can.  

But there is one thing.  Emotionally, I am exhausted.  Being in limbo for about 2 months straight is hard.  

I am a woman who some in the business world call a Quick Start. I get a gazillion ideas daily and the ones that stick I initiate as soon as possible.   After I finish that initiative, I get another idea aand want to move onto that.  So when I was diagnosed on June 17, I thought that I would immediately start treatments. I was like hup hup - let's get this underway.   But things take time.  Tests need to be done, and treatments seriously considered.  There is no jumping into an idea quickly unless the treatment plan is clear from the get go.  And that is not my situation.  

So I learn how to take my time.  How not to freak out.  How to educate myself in a way that isn't alarming but healing.  How to deal with friends who can't deal with the diagnosis and vanish from my life.  I am taking classes at the local cancer centre and am doing a few secret projects that keep me feeling creatively inspired.  

For a few days I was feeling guilty about keeping this blog.  There are so many others in much more dire situations, and that along with others telling me how great my diagnosis is left me wondering what my problem is.  My diagnosis is positive and they oncologists feel good about finding it very early.  And just a couple of nights ago,  I realized that was stupid.  I have cancer.  It's important that I don't discredit my experience, because at the end of the day this is a horrible disease no matter what stage and I do believe that it has changed my outlook on life.  For better and for worse.  

Tomorrow is my son's 6th Birthday.  We will spend the day at the beach surrounded by our loved ones.  There is no other thing I would rather be doing.  Taking time out to celebrate his life, and soak in the lake, and enjoy our time together. 

I urge you to take the time to be with your loved ones.  Do what you want.  Take your time. Because right now, it's yours to take. 

Early Morning

I seem to wake everyday between 3:30 and 4:00 am.

It's the time of day where everything is quiet. 

For the first few minutes I am at peace, and as i begin to wake up and remember my situation my brain starts racing. 

And Breathe. 

It goes from thought to thought.  Some of my thoughts this morning look like this: 

Never in my life did I think that I would have cancer.  

I have been around those with cancer.  I helped my father when he was sick with multiple myeloma.  Been a support for some of my dearest friends.  You see, I am good at taking care of others.  I am not good at being taken care of.  

I think about the language of cancer. Of the battle, of how we are going to kick it in the ass.  And how I feel confused about that language within my own body.  

I think about this slow growing tumour.  Sometimes I feel it, and I wish it was out of my body, not in it.   

I think about my dad a lot.  About how wrecked he would be if he were here.  But also about how much I miss him.  I remember the time i had my wisdom teeth out and how he made me chicken noodle soup.  

And i think about how strong people say that I am.  But none of this feels strong. It feels scary. It feels overwhelming. 

I try to stay positive. I listen to the sounds outside my window.  The birds begin chirping.  At first it's just one bird, and then they all start to chime in, as if it's their daily song to wake up to.  And then they start to quiet, the same way my brain does. 

My thoughts begin to slow down.  

I breathe. 

and I close my eyes. 

And try to find peace from these early morning thoughts. 

Breathing Deeply

So, on Friday I had my first appointment with the Juravinski team. 

I was trying to keep myself busy before the appointment but it was proving to be a challenge. I have, in the past, been described as a "totally positive hyperactive over achiever" and in my work as a curator of events, a bookseller and an artist it has served me well. But in these days of waiting, I wish my mile a minute brain would just chill the heck out.  

The past three months prior to this diagnosis I started meditating. And the past few days these new ways of focusing have helped me quite a bit. 

When we walked into the clinic, I could barely breathe. You see, my mile a minute brain had convinced me that I was about to hear the worst diagnosis ever. Thankfully it was quite the opposite.

I have Stage 0 Ductal Carcinoma In Situ. I will have a lumpectomy followed by chemotherapy and radiation. Of course after the surgery they do more tests to see that nothing has changed. If it has, we come up with another plan. 

According to my doctor, if you do have breast cancer, this is the best breast cancer to have. 

It's my 11th wedding anniversary today and we are at a cottage in Port Dover. I know that the coming months will be difficult, but for the next few weeks until the treatment begins, I plan to take care of myself emotionally and physically. I plan to see those I love dearly. I am going to eat healthy food. Tonight as I watch the stars above, for the first time in weeks I am breathing deeply.