Thank you all so much for your responses to “It’s back.” I will do individual responses to each of you, but also feel compelled to address you as a community. I see from your responses that while our respective experiences of ovarian cancer are often common among us and well understood by one another, a multitude of differences make each of our situations unique. I’m not exactly sure how to classify this post. A rant? Journaling? War & Peace? I’m gonna go with all of the above. It’s been a REALLY weird week. I feel like I’m hovering in some kind of disconnected place between life and death, and I’m not just talking about cancer. But this post is built around that, the way life unfolds for me, my feelings about the life I live in and the definition and MEANING of “alone.”
Before I had a chance to snuggle in with the news that my colon cancer is in remission, I got hit between the eyes by the news that my ovarian cancer has recurred. I came here, to this safe place, because I just couldn’t go it alone. Not again. Not this time. The level of support, honesty, understanding, empathy, encouragement, humor, simple reminders, hugs, love, prayers, consideration, information, and even a little constrained frustration, has been astounding! Thank you ALL, for each and every word and sentiment.
You’ve all been through so much in your fight to be free from, or at least live with, ovarian cancer. So many times I’ve wondered how you do it, but the truth is I KNOW how you do it because, like each of you, I too am strong, tenacious, and resilient. Like each of you, I'm more likely than not to keep fighting even when I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread. The more difficult question for me has been WHY you do it. I've assumed it’s because you have people you love, and people who love you, and are fighting with you. I’ve assumed you’ve done it because you are NOT in this “alone.” As solitary as this journey can feel, when we come out of our heads and back into life, most of us know that we are not really alone and that is what makes those more desperate moments survivable. But some of us ARE really alone. Instead of flesh & blood people I spend a lot of time with the t.v., or on the internet. I talk to God – a lot! (who else is gonna listen to me for that long, uninterrupted?!). I see a counselor (a breast cancer survivor) once a week. And I come here. Most of you are a least a country away and yet you are probably my closest connections and biggest source of support. These are the places I reach out to as part of my efforts to withstand the degree of my aloneness, but none of them reach out to me.
I suspect most of you have someone to hold your hand when you get scared, cook a meal when you can't, bring you a cup of tea just because, or stay with you until you fall asleep. Maybe you don't have to pile everything in your car and drive to a crowded laundromat just to have clean sheets to put on the bed you're feeling too weak to leave and too exhausted to remake, but maybe if you DO there is someone there to lend a hand with the laundry baskets, keep you company during the spin-cycle, and help you put your bed back together. I suspect most of you get up each day and face what's ahead, no matter how difficult, because you are determined to fight with those who are fighting with you, or you are committed to fighting for those counting on you to be here for as long as you can. Something drives each and every one of you and I suspect it’s your connections to the people in your lives. Someone said they didn’t think it's relevant who is or isn't there when considering continuing treatment, but I say it's the only thing that IS relevant. Aren’t the people in our lives, the ones we love that love us back, the ONLY real reason to stick around? At best, my personal wants, needs, and desires are meaningless if they are sought without purpose or aren’t rooted in love, and accomplishments and creature comforts are empty unless they are shared… with people! If I am the only reason to fight for more life, then I'm not doing anything more important than taking up space and prolonging the inevitable.
Being alone is an important truth about my life that colors every second of it. It doesn’t make things better or worse for me, it just makes them different. Being alone also means I don’t really matter to anyone because there’s no one around to care one way or the other, and that’s not an easy thing to say. I hate the way it sounds and what I think it implies to all of you, but mostly I hate that it’s true, and if you’re hearing, “poor me,” in this admission, you’re missing it. “Alone” is not a sob story, it’s just a true story. I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me, but I hope you’ll try to understand that MY “alone” is not YOUR “alone.” They are different. By definition “alone” means:
1.Having no one else present; on one's own. (synonyms: by oneself, all alone, solitary, single, solo)
2.Without others' help or participation; single-handed. (synonyms: unaided, unassisted, without help, without assistance)
3.Isolated and lonely. (synonyms: solitary, deserted, abandoned, forsaken, forlorn, friendless
1 & 2 are EXACTLY what I mean when I say, “I am alone.” 3 is how I feel at my worst – a place I don’t go to very often. My “alone” is as much the result of the choices I’ve made, as it is what was thrust upon me as a child. My dad died of MS when I was 10, my mom of pancreatic cancer when I was 18. So part of me had a keen awareness of mortality early on, but another part of me always thought I’d have time to connect and commit more thoroughly – time to build deeper more lasting relationships. I’m usually well-liked, out-going, and make friends easily, and I try to live with integrity. But the bottom line is I don’t have the kind of relationships in place that I need to have in order to justify putting myself through the continued hell of fighting ovarian cancer. I just can’t go it alone anymore.
For 1 year and 5 months I've been putting one foot in front of the other, doing everything required of me medically, going beyond what I thought I was capable of physically, and pushing myself to my limits mentally, emotionally, intellectually and even academically trying to absorb an overload of information for a complex, multi-cancer diagnosis. I’ve done it because I’ve had to, no one else was going to do it, I’m good at hard, and there was ALWAYS the promise of a future. Besides, I’d invested a lot of time and effort in that future and I wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. So I fought, and I fought hard, and I did it alone, and now I’m tired. On the whole, the feedback from all of you has been positive and it definitely sparked the hope that was dashed in my doctor appointment. But it’s in stark contrast to what my doctor had to say, the statistics, the research, and I’m feeling confused by all the discrepancies in the information. That said, all of you are LIVING proof of what it means to fight OC and recurrence, so I feel apt to be guided by YOUR expertise. But something is stopping me, and I can’t seem to keep that spark of hope alive, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m alone. If all more chemo buys me is a side-effects ridden version of what I have
I have stage 3c, high grade, serous carcinoma – epithelial ovarian cancer/primary peritoneal cancer. I’m not going to go in the colon cancer stuff other than to say that it led to the diagnosis of ovarian cancer. I had exploratory surgery, did chemo, debulking surgery, more chemo and, like all of you, ticked down the 10 months to recurrence 3 months at a time. The waiting was excruciating – maybe even worse than the bad news itself. I likened it to being on death row with a stay of execution. I knew that at any moment the governor could call and say it was back on – that it was time for me to die – but until then I’d just have to wait, pacing back and forth in my cell, and jumping every time the phone rang. Another woman on here compared the time between those 3 month visits to waking up every morning feeling like she was about to go before a firing squad – exactly how I felt the day of my last appointment: READY!... “Your CA125 has doubled…” AIM!... “and I’m sorry to tell you the news isn’t good.” FIRE!... “The cancer has come back.” My head dropped and I felt myself crumple, but I knew I wasn’t dead because tears were pouring from my eyes. Up to that moment I prayed, I hoped, I relied on the way I was feeling, and the fullness or flatness of my stomach, but I suppose I always knew it would come back. I’d read somewhere that the worse your ascites, the more likely the cancer will recur, and I had 15 liters drained out of me. I’m BRCA 1 & 2 negative, so treatment after recurrence is likely to be less effective. Like all of you, I’ve lost my hair – twice – which, honestly, turned out to be the least of all of it. Worse was when it came back – like an old lady perm, and gray! I gained 30 lbs. after surgery which has made everyone happy but me, but apparently I’m more likely to survive if I’m fat. I still FEEL like me – maybe even a BETTER version of me in some ways – but physically… visually… me has gone missing. Peripheral neuropathy in my hands and feet has made it nearly impossible to do many of the things that used to help keep me sane: playing guitar, piano, drums, writing (by hand or typing), standing, walking, even just sitting still and relaxing, and it’s getting worse, not better. My hearing has been effected, my eyesight has been damaged (I now have retinopathy & cataracts), my diabetes appears to be permanently uncontrolled, and my blood pressure consistently high. I’ve dealt with 2 blood clots (upper left arm from 1st chemo, and right leg just to keep it interesting), shingles, UTI’s, unrelenting incontinence, uncontrollable tremors, loss of grip strength, and some weird arthritic thing in my hands including fingers that lock and the partial loss of the use of my right thumb. (A big shout out to Taxil/Carboplatin, without whom NONE of this would have been possible!) Chemo has wrecked nearly every part of me, so unless there is more to look forward to than this… no thank you.
But it’s not just all cancer all the time. No! There are a plethora of things that weigh me down like cement boots in a swimming pool: POLITICS, for example. I now live in a country under the leadership of angry despot! An insane, xenophobic, narcissist whose hatred and racism is rivaled only by that of Adolph Hitler. He has divided this nation like I’ve never seen in my lifetime. Our democracy is looking more and more like an autocracy, and I am increasingly troubled by the global relationships this maniacal boob is destroying at every turn. He thinks climate change is a hoax. The proof? He was recently in extremely COLD weather and stupidly tweeted, “What happened to global warming?” Apparently our moron and chief thinks the “warming” in global warming only refers to the weather that’s hot. The gun violence in America (fueled by Trump’s anger and carried out with his blessings) takes us from one unspeakable tragedy to the next with no time to process before it happens again. Bombs were sent to people because of their political party affiliation and willingness to speak out against the idiot at the helm. Who else but Trump would criticize rather than praise the men and women fighting to contain the worst fires in the history of southern California, degrade women with name-calling and abusive language, and bar Jim Acosta from the White House as he yammers on about how the press is “the enemy of the people,” and all in the same foul breath. Look! It’s the village idiot! He’s launching into another attack on Mexicans who, in his tiny, fear-mongering, caravan-obsessed mind, are all drug dealing murderers with leprosy, and members of MS13. He is evil. He is a liar. He is the president of the increasingly UnUnited States of America. If he has his way, the Medicaid I’ve been relying on to keep me alive will go away completely, along with the government benefits he’s trying to cut or get rid of.
When I can’t take another second of politics, FINANCIAL DOOM is always ready and waiting: My total income is $210 short of my rent. I have a broken phone, broken fridge, broken car, and the rest of the money for the car insurance I couldn’t pay for in full this time is due in a few days.
Since I could go on for days with that topic I’ll just leave it there for now and move on to LIFE & DEATH ISSUES outside of my own: There is a glut of unwanted animals here in Austin because too many people don’t like the idea of spaying and neutering their pets, but they won’t think twice about killing them in place of having to house and feed them. How long does it take to die from ovarian cancer if you stop treatment? Four months judging by my friend Leslie. Terri is losing her battle with OC despite trying everything and living in a way that everyone swears will keep you from getting cancer in the first place. No idea if she is alive or dead because she stopped responding to any contact ... again! This time I’m just going to have to let it be what it is. Forrest has some kind of deadly blood cancer, Adam has late stage stomach cancer, and then there are all the women in the Livestrong program – 12 breast cancers and one lung. It’s like hanging out with the grim reaper.
And finally, there’s all that RANDOM CRAP. Always readily available, unavoidable, and there in abundance. The other day a friend was going on and on about she’s not afraid to die and is “at peace” with the idea of death, and how she has “no fear” around any of it. This is my HEALTHY, CANCER-FREE friend, by the way, who has no clue what it’s like to have actually been given an END date along with a full description of how awful and painful it’s going to be! I mean, there she was gloating over her untapped strength in the face of something she knows nothing about… and to ME of all people! It took a minute for the full effect of her insensitivity and thoughtlessness to really sink in but by that time it did I got a text from her cancelling the plans we’d JUST made for the next day. We were supposed to meet for lunch and go shopping to celebrate the colon cancer news and to do something fun before my the ovarian cancer news. “Oh no!...” she texts, “I just remembered that both my teams are playing at noon tomorrow so I can’t make it!” Really?! You need to watch a football game rather than be with your cancer friend who’s trying to celebrate the best and prepare for the worst? REALLY?! I dumped her.
Listen, I’m no victim and I certainly don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, but when I say I am “alone” in all this, I mean it. Many of you have talked about cancer being an experience we ALL have to do “alone” even if you have friends and family around you. But I beg to differ. FEELING like you’re alone even though you have people there, and actually being alone because there IS no one there, are not the same thing. I am alone, completely, every morning, every night, every day, every holiday, all of the time. I deal with cancer alone, always. Decisions around it are made by me alone, always. Everything that has anything to do with my life is up to me alone, always. There is no one to be alone around, or to make me feel alone, or even to leave me alone. It’s not a sentiment, it is a fact. It’s not a feeling, it’s a truth. It’s not symmantics, it’s by definition, “ALONE.” It doesn’t mean I don’t have wonderful interactions with people that I value beyond words. I get to look at the trees, hear the birds, see nature, and am brought to tears by the unspeakable beauty of it all – the sound of rain, the smell of grass, a flower, and the various creatures that find their way onto my porch and seem to trust me so readily. I am sustained by the knowledge that, amidst the chaos of the world, there are people who consistently rise to fight for those who are disenfranchised and marginalized – people who are brave enough to stand up to social injustices, and advocate for those without a voice. There are people like ALL OF YOU who love and give despite the weight of their own troubles and afflictions, and without the expectation of ANYTHING in return. These are the things that get me through the day, but I experience them ALONE and I don’t think I can go it alone anymore. I need to matter. I need someone to be there for me, to support me, to love me, to give me a reason to get out of bed in the morning and, if there’s a breath left in me, encourage me to get back out into life with the assurance that I CAN be a part of the change I seek. I feel like it would take so little from people to keep me from being alone - the touch of a hand, reaching out, stopping by, coming over, just keeping your gahdamn word. I didn’t even matter enough to someone I KNOW for her to bother keeping her plans with me, and I wonder why that is. I got hooked up with a cancer survivor buddy through “Regarding Cancer.” We met for lunch and she brought me all these gifts, we talked and had a nice time then agreed to get together again. We kept texting about meeting for lunch, finally made a plan, and then she cancelled, last minute, twice, and then I never heard from her again. I mean, WTF?! Is there something about me that screams I don’t need anyone, I’m fine? People seem think I’m good human. I get told that I have such a great attitude and that I’m easy to talk to… blah, blah, blah. I was talking with this guy at the YMCA and he said, “I bet you’re a REALLY good therapist. You have such great energy and you’re so positive.” Well if I’m so freaking great why am I so completely alone?! I just don’t understand it and it doesn’t seem like I’m going to be able to change it any time soon. I can continue to reach out and do everything in my power to connect with the people around me, but if nothing comes back, where does that leave me? Everyone I know with cancer has had the experience of watching the people in their lives just kind of fade away, or not even show up in the first place, but in the end they all still have somebody – usually, several somebodies. And there’s me, out here alone without a soul in sight, and starting to feel a little embarrassed and kind of desperate about the whole thing. I’m like the fat girl at the party no one wants to dance with! So I have some questions for all of you… Is this experience shared or as inexplicable and isolated as it feels? Do any of you relate to any of this? Why do my relationships never seem to stick? Is this just the world we all live in now and for some reason I just never got the memo? What the hell is going on? And how can I continue to go on if it’s just going to be more of the same against the backdrop of cancer?
I see my other gyn-onc on Thursday. His opinion and expertise matter to me. I’ll decide after that. The irony that I might choose death after having fought so hard for life is not lost on me, but it seems strangely fitting for someone who STILL finds herself out-of-sync and confused by the world she lives in.
…Love, Cyndie