Running out of Miracles...

Yesterday was a bad day.

We went for the results of my scan. They weren't good. The cancer has spread and grown even bigger than before. It's pushing my organs around and pushing the frame of my body out of shape, hence all my pain.

We had a talk with my doctor. That was the hardest part of the day. As he sees it, there are limited options as it is. They don't know what to do, so much so, he literally went on google to see what it says on there. Is it really that bad? That's not a good sign. I have a lot of pain and we can't figure out what's causing it or how to blunt it.

All along, we had figured there was a possible way out. A way to maybe control the pain because at the moment, that's all they are interested in doing as they can't do much else. A new chemo, a new way to attack it. But we may be running out of those. The box of miracles may be emptying out.

We're not giving up, but it's getting harder to stay optimistic on a day like that.

Like I said, this was a tough one.

I Stand For....

I stand for many things.

That song is in my head a lot lately. It's weird but i guess it poses a lot of questions and deep thoughts when you stop and have the time to listen to it.

Lets not talk about me today. I'm feeling great and well it's not all about cancer. It's about much more important things.

Besides, it's kind of fun to do the impossible.


So i come to you with this question; What Do You Stand For?


I Stand For....






and the ability to wear silly hats...

On Hold; For The Moment...

Waiting rooms, you've got to love them.
My chemotherapy has been put on hold - celebrations all around! On the other hand my counts are dead from the last lot, so in a way that's the only reason i'm not having it but I thought i'd throw in a bit of fun there!

I still have yet to grasp the concept of an appointment because let's face it, they never stick to them.
The waiting area to me always seems like a grim sort of place and even if you've had a full night's sleep a sudden wave of tiredness seems to engulf you, as if you're kind of meant to feel rubbish just by being there.

On the plus side with all these so-called "appointments" though, you get to have a chat with the people around you. Where they are in their treatment? How they're doing? The usual chit chat for a room full of cancer patients.

Some people have just started out on their journey's, while others have finished and are ten years clear of it. They still have to come back for check-ups though, made me realise that even if you beat the beast it still has that one way of trapping you for that little longer.

I had an interesting day today. As I left and said goodbye I said what cancer patients always seem to say to each other in these situations: "Good luck. I hope I don't see you again." That's not being rude. It's saying that you hope they make it, that there won't be more treatment, that we won't run into each other waiting for some other form of therapy or appointment.

And it's true. I genuinely liked the members of my temporary group. I will miss them. But I truly hope we never see each other again.

Stand Up 2 Cancer

Cancer takes one person every minute. One life in a moment. They are our brothers, our sisters, our fathers and mothers, our husbands and wives, our best friends, our children, ourselves.

http://su2c.standup2cancer.org/index.php



This is where the end of cancer begins: when we unite in one unstoppable movement and Stand Up To Cancer.

Will you stand with me?