Waiting for Godot

In college I became quite the expert on Samuel Beckett. This was something that I knew would serve me well in career choices later in life along with my expansive knowledge of Victorian literature. Anyway, Beckett's most famous work was a play called Waiting for Godot, the story of two men who spend their lives standing on the side of the road waiting for the appearance of a never seen man named Godot. Each day they leave convinced he will surely come tomorrow.

I woke up thinking about that play this morning. I started a new chemo drug this week which promises different side-effects than my previous drug. So I sit waiting for them to appear. They didn't come yesterday, but surely they would come today and if they don't, they will come tomorrow. Or maybe they will never come or they will be different than what the health care people promised. So I wait.

In the meantime I distract myself with books and computers and worrying about other things like will my eyebrows make it through this next round of chemo? But really, I am waiting for something that may or may not show up. And regardless of the preparation, I won't be ready.

It's the little things

Cancer is a big scary word. We all know someone who has died from it, gotten it, survived it, or operated on it, but it is still a great unknown. That is why I chose to bury my head in the sand. One of my colleagues who survived read every bit of research she could find. I focused my attention on how I could draw in eyebrows should the time come.

So for me, it is not the big scary things that frighten and frustate me it is the little things that occur every day that I can't control. The almost neverevending queasiness, the taste of metal in my mouth, sores, infections, pestilence, plague, and keeping my scarf pulled over my ears. You know, the little things. I thought I had it all under control. I don't.

I am getting ready to start my next round of chemo facing a whole new drug. I made the mistake of looking it up on the world wide internet to find side-effects. What I found were horror stories of nail fungus and neuropathic pain. I can take pain, but nail fungus? As I said, it's all the little things that pile up every day and become this giant mole hill that I get out of bed every day and climb over. But I know I am lucky. I have a good prognosis and the side effects are annoying but not insurmountable. I just spoke with a colleague whose mother has had cancer for seven years and she lost all her body hair, but never her eyebrows. God is good.

Going it alone

Last Saturday my sister went home. She has a job, a home, family, guess I had to let her go, but it wasn't easy. For the last month she has been my companion, my helper and my co-conspirator. But even more importantly, the two of us got to watch Top Chef and Project Runway together.

We planned our evenings around those events. Tonight I have to go it alone. I can do it. We will call and text and email and go over the fine points, but it won't be the same. So this post is not about me, it is about this wonderful woman who I used to torture as a child because she had the bad luck to be my little sister. So thanks kid for not holding it over my head that I could beat you up or banished you to the living room when I had friends.

I miss her more than I can say. But I especially miss her tonight when I will sit alone with a scoop of ice cream (I'm not going to suffer entirely) and watch Top Chef. I hope that she is happy and content and maybe, just a little, misses me too.

Coping

I have coped well. My healthcare providers have encouraged me to take antidepressants and I have asked what for? This last week though tried me almost to the point of tearing the hair out of my wig. All the little annoyances that they said would happen seemed to all hit this week.

On top of that my dad finally made the trek to Gainesville and had the much ballyhooed surgery on his spinal column. Tonight we are all spent from an overload of emotions.

Tomorrow is chemo number 4 and the last one of this cycle. I am telling everyone that the next cycle of 4 will be a piece of cake. (Chocolate I hope, in fact Texas sheet cake at Jimmy Z's Barbecue Bistro to be specific.) But as I was told this week, I am overly optimistic, so I don't really know what will happen. All I know is this, I have beaten the odds, my eyebrows are still intact.

Long time no post

Yes I know I am running behind on posting, but in my defense, I have cancer. Using the cancer card sometimes comes in handy. I broke up with the man I was seeing by telling him I had cancer. There were skid marks on the phone. Then a friend of mine wanted to stop seeing someone so I gave her permission to say, "My friend has cancer and I am spending a lot of time taking care of her." At first she resisted, but finally ... Then there are my sister's homework assignments. Truth is, she really is busy taking care of me and gets behind.

It doesn't work with everything though. Did I mention that I may be losing my home? I got into a bad mortgage and at the time, I wasn't quite told everything which is my fault I never knew I needed a lawyer to read the contract, I thought this was a little more commonplace document. Refinancing isn't an option because currently the value is 1/3 what I owe. So now I am trying to do a short sale to a lovely anonymous friend who will in turn rent it to me. If that doesn't work then my next option is foreclosure. In the meantime, I am no longer paying my mortgage. There is no advantage to my paying it, and I was discretely advised not to. Not to mention that the mortgage company, when I tried to negotiate with them several years ago, told me as long as I was paying my mortgage they wouldn't talk to me. They're talking to me now. They don't really care that I have cancer, but oddly enough I understand. It's their job and if they had a choice I'm sure they would be doing something else.

I have lots of choices. I actually have a good job, good insurance, loving family and friends. So I try to have compassion for the people who cannot find any employment except to call people and demand money they don't have. And I have been polite until one young lady asked me why couldn't my husband pay. I called her impertinent, which I doubt that she understood the meaning (OK now I am being snarky). They will continue to call and I will continue to tell them I have cancer, and it won't matter because the cancer card doesn't work with everyone.

My new look

photo © Rhonda Prince 2010
I don't look the same as I used to, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's not just about the hair, but that's a start. My face looks different, of course steroids have made my round face even rounder, and I am finding that I want to dress differently and even have adjusted my makeup. When I look in the mirror I don't see the same person I used to see and I find it gives me the freedom to be a different person which is definitely not a bad thing, most of the time.

I am becoming more outspoken which is a blessing and a curse. I find myself looking at my life and evaluating the importance, but I still find that I can get obsessed over some of the same old things.

Last Saturday night my friends came over for a lesson in meditation. I have toyed with meditation for a number of years but still struggle with focusing. I try to make it a part of my prayer life because as I was taught by a 90-year old nun what's the use of talking to God if you aren't going to take time to listen to him afterwards. So one of my friends is an experienced meditator and she agreed to come and lead us in a guided meditation.

Later as we discussed the experience, my sister told of a method she'd been taught where you visualize your problems as a river that just go floating away from you. I thought about this image for a while and the next day I called her with an exciting addition. You picture your problems as the person most responsible and as they are swept away by the current they smash their heads against a huge rock, repeatedly, before being swept away. My sister didn't think this was the kind of positive thought process that fit with prayer and meditation, but for a day it really seemed to help.

OK, occasionally I deal with anger and depression issues and am not happy every moment of the day, but then who is, cancer or not. In the meantime I remember the kindness of people, my excellent health insurance, and the fact that I have beaten the odds...my eyebrows are still intact.

The Jericho Road

Today's gospel lesson was on The Good Samaritan. (The old testament reading was about plumblines, which I found highly amusing having grown up with a father who was a builder, but that is not the intent of this missive.) I think most people know the story of The Good Samaritan, though not sure about almost anyone under 35, what they do and don't know ever since I found out my young co-workers don't know Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, but I am going to assume for the sake of expediency, that everyone does know the story.

Anyway, when the priest delivered his sermon, he focused not on the familiar story but on the road where the Samaritan found the injured man, The Jericho Road. The road, as he described it, was 17 miles of desolate wasteland. As he spoke, I realized that I am on my own Jericho Road. However, I am surrounded by Samaritans. My friends, family, and colleagues have rallied and supported me on my journey by ensuring that my every need is attended too even before I ask. I am truly blessed.

Besides my mother, the person who has sacrificed the most to care for me has been my sister. She is a school teacher and a photographer in Chattanooga who gave up her summer to travel to Florida and help out myself and my parents. To do so she gave up teaching summer school and a part of her income. We offered to compensate her for the sum but she refused. So instead we have been buying her things: clothes, shoes, StarBuck's, makeovers. Yesterday was a good day for me, so we went shopping, and I bought her some more things. She started crying at one point overwhelmed by our generosity and said in all seriousness, "I feel like a cancer wh**e" (uh lady of the evening).

The problem with saying things like that or doing nice things for me, you know it's going to end up on my blog, and I warned her. But I didn't know that the sermon today would talk about Samaritans and desolate roads. The priest went on to talk about those that pontificated about the road and those who actually took action, like my friends and family. Unfortunately, I can't provide makeovers for everyone, so all i can do is say thank you for all you've done and all you probably will do until I reach the end of this particular road.