Deflated

Yet another appointment. I'm changing my attitude for this one.

The Hammer and The Healer

"Hey, listen, can we talk?"

"Sure, let's go the boardroom; grab your tea."

"Listen, I really hate to tell you this. I mean for the most part, you've been good to me here; but you know, I, um; I, I quit."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"You know, um, it's, ah, it's really too much for me here. I, I thought this was a place that I really wanted to work, but with the team changing as it is, I just, - I want out."

"You don't like the team, here at H & H?"

"NO! I don't like the team here at H & H; are you serious? Do you like the team? Do you like what you've created here? These people are shadows of people; they have no souls; they're counter productive. This is ridiculous really. Um, so yeah, listen, I just, -I quit."

"I happen to believe the team here is well balanced."

"Well balanced? Are you off your rocker? You hired Depression last week! What could she have to offer us here? The week before that you hired three new guys. Really come on, Isolation? Misery? Self Doubt? I saw Fault interviewing Sadness last week for Christ's sake. Look, I thought you really needed me here, and that I could do this job for you, but no, I can't; no one can do this job for you, this is ridiculous."

"Well, there's Hope; you and her have always got along."

"Got along? What? Hope is a fucking chameleon! Our relationship started when I caught her making out on my couch with Death. Jesus, I don't even see her anymore since you gave her office to the latest addition to your team. Her office is in the kitchen for Christ's sake, I see her at coffee break and that's it."

"You're still drinking coffee? You know, you shouldn't....."

"SHUT UP!"

"Do you have any positive thoughts, any at all, about what you're doing here?"

"Yes, I have some, I guess"

"You know that positive thoughts are exponentially more powerful than negative thoughts."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it doesn't matter that you are negative about your team; all negative thoughts are weak and all positive thoughts are powerful. It's true; try it."

"What is this? What did you do? Did you read a self help book and now your passing your learnings on? Great, thanks!" I can read my own self help book thank you very much."

"Yes, I did, and I do and you should."

"You do what?"

"I pass everything I learn on to you."

"Thank you, I guess."

"Look maybe you're right. People have done this job before you (and done very, very well) and if I recall correctly, the teams in the past may have been more balanced."

"AHHH HA! I knew it!"

"How about I make some more hires this week?"

"Forget it, I quit, I told you Fah-ni-to."

"Well, there's a couple resumes right here on the fax machine, how about we take a look at them together? Maybe you'd like to do the interviewing this time around? Maybe you can build new offices for them? You know that construction management thing you were on about before, maybe that would help."

"Oh? I, I would like that very much. Let me see those."

"Here you go."

"Hey look, it's Laughter, I used to work with her a couple years ago. And look, here's Pretty, I remember her, and Confidence, and look here's Healer herself, and Joy....can we hire them all?"

"Well, we have no room, we can't possibly hire them all."

"Look, I told you, I can do this. I can make space for new hires, this is doable. Hell, Death needs company in the corridor, I can put Laughter in there with him until I design something more suitable. I'll build the offices for these new hires. I'll do that and still do my real job."

"That is your real job. Congratulations!"

"Congratulations on what?"

"Youv'e been promoted.'"

"You don't say, you mean I came in here to quit and I got a promotion? I love that!"

"Good, we'll see you tomorrow then."

Empty and Sad

This morning I am empty and sad instead of full and happy. It seems that denial has many dance partners, happiness and postive thinking among them.

I'll be in the Chemo Chair again tomorrow and am fearful of the side effects experienced last time.

The folks at the Hammer and the Healer called a board meeting yesterday; what's up with the assigned seating? They always put Denial and Fault on either side of me, and Death and Hope straight across from me.

Death is currently negotiating for a permanent office but they're not biting. His desk is under the concrete stairs in the emergency exit corridor. He says it's too cold in there and it's hard for him to work in such poor conditions. He says he's going to call WCB.

Hope has a permanent office but it's in the photocopier room. I guess they set it up that way so I'd have to run in to her several times a day.

Today

Today, I feel like living but don't know how. Today, I want it more than ever but can't seem to grab it. Today with the buzz gone, I am down. I think I thought that the kindness would save my life; but alas the battle is still mine. Who gets this job? Me. Who wants it? Not me. In Charge of saving my own life, really? Me?

The Cancer Agency is bound by protocol; their protocol; the one devised by board members and research dollars. The one that says those that can be saved will, and those [who they don't believe can be saved] won't, or they won't help them as much as the ones who can.

So who will give me a hysterectomy? Their surgeon was originally on side, but after their group conference, (the conference where they talk about who is savable and who is not) they concluded that they wouldn't give me one. Again, maybe Dr. Phil can get one going for me. I'll ask around. Perhaps there is a back alley underground black market surgeon, the one with the coat hanger, maybe he'll do it. More resources needed, more appointments. More work, more worth, more life.

The Speech

Intro Joke 1
Thank you for coming out to the Kick-Ass Cancer Benefit, Celebrating and Supporting the Unstoppable Treice Backs. You know, when Erin first emailed me the idea for the title of this event, I, with an undocumented case of dyslexia apparently, read “celebrating and stopping the unsupportable Treice Backs!”

Intro Joke 2
Anyway, so thank you. Thanks for being here tonight. You know, I’m actually not here right now. I’m probably puking in the alley; I have Imposter Syndrome and I think I’ve flown the coop. I thought maybe later we could divide the room into those with Imposter Syndrome and those without; maybe do a little Row Row Row Your Boat or There Ain’t No Flies on Us, or even Kumbya?

No Seriously, Music
Actually, no we’ve got a great line of up of Music tonight. A big hand and a big thank you to Paul Pigat, to Wichita Trip, to the Boomchix and to Big Joe Burke. Also, we have a special performance by Soressa Gardner

No, Seriously
I’ve been struggling with how to convey how important and touching it is to me that you’ve all shown up tonight to support me; I can’t say enough. I’m very nervous, partially because there’s so many people in the room that I don’t know, but also because there are so many people in the room that I do know!

Body Joke 3
So maybe if the people I do know could leave the room, I could just hang out with the people I don't know!

Anyway, it was the Grandson of Confucius who said that just as water will flow, onobstructed, downhill, we given the chance to be what we are, will extend ourselves in kindness. So you guys are all living unobstructed lives as far as I can tell – very, very kind.

Now I'm serious, thank you for this
In the days preceding this event I started falling asleep each night to the sensation of swelling. Every time I closed my eyes this past week I felt I was filling up, like a balloon. I seemed to be taking many breaths in, but I never let them out. I could feel my arms puffing up slowly against my rising belly, my legs intensifying because my knees and ankles were inflating.

I felt like the man who could swallow the sea; until before I knew it I was huge in my room. The sensation in my limbs was that they were pink and light and growing and the stuffing themselves into the corners of my bedroom, my big old booty backed up against the window and my nose pressed into the ceiling. When I opened my eyes I could only see my cheeks as they grew like bubble gum up and over my head. And with each everlasting breath in, my nostrils grew to the size of eggs.There I lay, night after night, nap after nap this week, light as feather but like a gargantuan cherubim rising like dough.

Ahh, the sensation of love; the anticipation of this room and all of you who have come to warm it with me; thank you. Thank you so much for this.

This event has come together because of hearts like yours. It is powerful because of your contributions and for your empathy. I would like to take a moment to honour the people in the room who have been touched by cancer in some way or another, good and bad. Their fights have ultimately been round after round of referee-less pain and mayhem, love and learning and I want them to feel connected here tonight for their journeys. So a toast if you will, for everyone who’s been touched by less than perfect health.

Tonight let’s celebrate!

So, a big thank you to everyone, all the volunteers who helpled to put this event together and to all the merchants who donated gifts to support my family through this tough time. Also, a big thank you to the WISE Club for supporting me for 16 years now!

So just a few specific thank yous,

I'd like to thank Chuck MacFarlane who inserted herself back into my life with love and is running this fabulous Silent Auction.

I’d like to thank Glynis Burke who pitched this event with adornment to everyone who would listen, not to mention her constant pitching of the Edamame bean for treating cancer!

I’d like to thank Erin Frizzell for organizing this classy event with love and excellence as always.

I’d like to thank Monique Koronko for making clear, that in no uncertain terms she’s on my team.

I’d like to thank Niki Walton for living the truth everyday and for doing it gracefully, and for taking it as it comes, in her long beautiful strides

I’d like to thank my Mom for loving me and learning me, for being near me and for getting closer everyday

I’d like to thank my son Max for showing me that he needs me everyday

And I’d like to thank my husband Kelly for kissing me, for tucking me in and for telling me every night that everything is going to be okay.

So Let’s celebrate!

No Words

Swelling

I don't know quite what to do with all of this kindness, except accept it. It doesn't feel quite right and yet it does somehow; like it's filling some holes from the past, mudding over some cracks, applying pressure to puncture and stiching up some tears.

I don't know quite what to do with this swelling, this feeling of fullness. Perhaps I'll eat less; thank you.

The Chemo Chair

The Chemo chair sits with three other chemo chairs in a standard hospital room. There is one in each corner; two by the window. The chemo chair is a recliner and comes in hospital green or hospital peach. I like the chair by the window, and because hospital peach reminds me of dirty band-aids, I always try to grab a green chair.

Each room has a full-time nurse who juggles names, birthdates, admin, blood, veins, reactions and bags. She also tolerates patients who are angry with her or with the system. And she tries to understand and assist the patients who are teary eyed and weak.

When starting a chemo session for a patient, sometimes the nurse misses a vein and calls for another nurse; sometimes that nurse misses a vein and calls for another nurse too. Otherwise, as long as everything goes well there's one nurse to four chemo chairs. The nurse, who is usually dressed in nursing clothes or even casual gym clothes, has a special realtionship with her thick, blue, waxy gown and gloves. Each time she hangs a bag of Chemical Therapy, say Carbolplation or Paclitaxol, she must suit up. Just like we do when we're working with Asebestos. The protocol exists in case the bag breaks. If it does, it may burn her or get into her eyes; it may also give her cancer.

Sometimes, I sit and look at the other patients in the other chairs and wonder about them. Sometimes I try to avoid their stares because I know they're looking at me and wondering about me. Sometimes someone who still has their hair and is relatively new to the process stares a lot at everyone else in the room as if to wonder if she too will share our look some day soon.

Sometimes, I get scheduled with a preacher and I listen. Other times I'm with another mother and we talk. Sometimes the ESL patients struggle to understand and everyone wants to help the nurse explain at the same time. Other times, there is one guy in the room who wants to take care of everyone. Most times, though, there is silence among us.

The Anti-Venom

The Chemotherapy is truly a poison; somewhat devilish; for now anyway. In my second round, it seems to have brought on some pain and anquish. Some of that deep grief I was feeling last month is here with me now. It turned me about and left me sick, stoned, angry and hurt.

I hope that it's more angleic characteristics will reveal themselves in a few months when my body glows under its cancer free halo.

This and That

Sometimes late at night I find Fault lingering about. He's just a shadow for just a moment and then he's gone. My body has struggled it seems, to keep its cells benign. Too much running, too much playing, too much truth and not enough at the same time. Back to the shower; and the scour.

Last week, I found myself dressing pretty for my oncologist. I was supposed to have her paged in the building when I arrived. Instead, I ran into her just outside the clinic. A soft smile and a glance at the sidewalk showed me she recognized my beauty under my wig and asked if I would accompany her to the Safeway with her recyclables. We walked, and she held my arm, her head, just beneath my shoulder pressed against me. I thought for an instant that we could drop off my cancer there too, but they didn't have a bin for that.

I asked one of the doctors today if I could have a PET scan at the end of all the treatments. She said "yes, the PET scan is best for showing the cancer." I told her that she misunderstood me, I didn't want the PET scan to show the cancer, I wanted the PET scan to show that there was no cancer at the end of all these treatments. She smiled and cocked her head to one side in disbelief'.

Cancer Graffiti

Propinquity

Today is my last day of work. I'm feeling pretty good about it and I'm looking forward to starting something new. I had an interview this morning for another job. It went well.

The company was called The Hammer and The Healer and they asked me to be there for 10:00am. Their offices are located on the 89th floor of the Universal Building downtown. I'd never heard of these guys before but was anxious to get on with Construction Management.

I was escorted into a round conference room and was asked to sit before a panel of interviewers. The board room table was made of cinnamon bark and was stiched together with some kind of twine. I'd never seen anything like it. The artwork was colourful and framed in wood from pear trees and rose bushes. There were small, smooth stones and pebbles in the centre of the table and Hope was there.

I don't know how she ended up working for this construction company but I was a little offended. I wonder if the other interviewers knew that I caught her making out with Death on my couch last week; geez. I decided it was best not to say anything about that as I really wanted this job. She spoke first actually. She asked for her special glasses back.

I took them off and she was right, my eyes had adjusted and I could see just as well without them as when I was wearing them. I looked over to the windows and saw that they were framed with words of wisdom; a perfect vista for that wide sky.

One of the guys asked if I was comfortable, and then started. "We've taken a look at your resume and see you've included a lot of construction management experience here."

"Yes, yes, I have. That's what I am; a project manager; that's who I am; a manger, of things."

"Oh, you know that's so strange. We just don't see it. Do you remember what Angeles Arrien said once?"

"Ah, um, no, no idea."

"She said 'never hide your green hair - they can see it anyway.' You see Mrs. Backs, we think you have more to offer than this management stuff. We think you are an artist and a lover, a mother and a child. We think you love words and letters and clocks and watches. We truly believe that you think in shapes and colours; we see your moods and your madness and we'd love to have you here. How are you with multi taksing?"

"Oh, I am very, very good at multi tasking, you wouldn't really believe it. I truly am a star when it comes to multi tasking. Basically, I function by multi tasking all the time, whether I'm at home or at work, I'm all over it."

"That's really too bad."

"Um, oh?"

"You see for this job, you need to focus on only one thing. What do these pebbles here, in the centre of the table remind you of?"

"Um, aggregate; say a two inch minus?"

"You mean they don't make you think of how something so rough can emerge so smooth? They don't make you think of the power of the sea? They don't bring the taste of salt to the back of your tongue?"

"Come to think of it, they do. When I look at them I hear a trickle. You're right.

"That's good, very good. How are you with deadlines and spreadsheets? How do you handle stress?"

"I'm excellent with deadlines and spreadsheets, I work best under pressure."

"Again, that's really too bad. To work at The Hammer and The Healer you'll need to forget about deadlines and you'll need to be stress free. You'll need to learn to find peace and balance and you'll need to cleanse the soils in which these weeds are growing." You'll need to find joy and feel it. You will need to rest when you need to and walk when you can. You will need to heal yourself.

"When can I start?"

"You already have."

Deep Thoughts

I hate this, it really is too much at certain moments; in most moments. Recently, I've been getting 5 and 10 minutes a day of relief. Relief from my situation means I forget where I am, what I have and what it means and think of something different. I hope to get a couple full days in a row like that - another bit of rhetoric would really be helpful. This one is wearing on me.

Like yesterday at the Safeway. I spoke to the cashier about why they get frustrated when you swipe your debit card the wrong way. They try to grab it and turn it around for you or they say "no, no, the other way." I told him he should try saying nothing. There are only two options for us consumers you know, swipe it this way or swipe it that way. If it doesn't work the first time, I told him, I would think of swiping it the other way on my own; thus saving him the negative energy expenditure. He agreed and I thought about that for 5 or 10 minutes after that. Really deep thoughts, oh how nice.

Mostly I'm Okay With This

Flirting

Is thinking or obsessing about death an infidelity of sorts? Naturally my true love is to my life however I often find myself yearning for more information about death, to get closer, to kiss another. It is so risqué, so fun, so forbidden and so uncomfortable that it is almost certainly an affair.

Mostly, I have very structured thoughts about my death. For a project manager like myself, is this not the final project? The ultimate attention to critical path, to early starts and late finishes, to detail, to perfection and to flow. I can't get enough of the way this might go! A friend said recently that my imagination must be just running wild; she is absolutely right. It is in fact a furry of thoughts and shapes and lights and buzzing sounds. Right now, I can only entertain everything, absolutely everything is permitted here. Ahh, meditation, another thing on my list.

I learned that it is no betrayal, there is no affair. I'm just flirting. If I fear death I cannot live. I must do away with the fear, and to do that I must know death. I need to know it to say no to it. I need to get a taste of it to pass it up. I need to digest it to feel sick and purge it. I need to have a brief encounter with it to see my life without me and say no fucking way, thank you very much you fat-assed bastard.

So, I do hang out with death sometimes, Kelly doesn't mind.

I am paralyzed however, when it's the other way around; when death calls the shots and visits me with no warning, no phone call, nothing. When it flashes across my screen, knocks on my conscience and leaves track marks in my heart. If you could put dread in a needle and shoot it up it would fill your body with doom in less than a second. That's what it feels like when death stops by. When death visits me it feels like what it must feel like between the second you're holding on to the Golden Gate Bridge to jump and the second you're not. Pure dread.

Please don't come around here no more. (thank you very much you fat- assed bastard)

A Visit From Hope

Yesterday, I had a visitor. Her name was Hope. She said she'd been travelling for 28 days to get to me and was tired. She wanted to crash on our couch, I said sure.

Quite beautful she is with her talk of sentiment and joy. We talked about healing and about spontaneity. She gave me some special glasses so I could see better, and said I'd only need them for a while; until my eyes adjusted.

She's a bit pushy though; she reminds me of me. Down girl, down!

My Response to Her Response

Hi Christina,

Thank You, your words mean a great deal to me; I can hear the birds chirping again.

I know that this is why you took last Friday off; you didn't quit though; thank you.

I appreciate the stats on poorly timed hysterectomies. To be clear though, it's not just the talk of hysterectomy that burns me. Since August, I shared with you my "triangle" of pain and discomfort in my belly and pelvis; you said not to worry. I shared with you the show of mucus and spotting; you asked if I wanted an antibiotic. I shared with you that it felt like I was getting my period, of cramping and of my gut problems; you were not alarmed. I shared with you my pain and anguish and knew there was something wrong enough to request to be scanned again. You scanned me again and this is where we are.

I believe that if I were heard, we may have come to find the cancer had spread in the cervix only, and not to the lymph. We could have nipped this in the bud in September. But now, I am very sick. This is what burns me. At one point I even thought there might be a dead baby inside of me. How weird is that? Not so weird, my body was telling me something was horribly, horribly wrong.

I know more than you about how my body feels; you know more than me about other things. Promise me that you'll listen to the bodies talking to you; telling you that something is not right. Promise me you've learned something from me; that you will add this to your successes.

Treice

Meer Mying are Mest Moo Mo

I think I need to break up with my oncologist. She says she tries her best; I say her best isn't good enough! My God, how do we begin to define "best" with this before us? I'm beginning to despise her and mock her under my breath; "we're trying our best you know..." "meer mying are mest moo mo...!"

Could she be teaching me something that I should stick around for? Perhaps I am supposed to learn forgiveness. If only I'd gone to Church every Sunday; maybe I'd have something to fall back on; maybe this would make more sense; maybe it would get me through.

When you get diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer do you:

a) wake up and fight
b) go back to bed

Gargling with Giggles

Today, my tears sting like lemon juice when it gets you in the eye. They're plump and they're jumping off my face.

I love Max; I want to eat marmalade off his toes and gargle with his giggles. Lately, he cries when I put my jacket on; he must wonder where I'm going and if I'm coming back.

Her Response

i am truly sorry
i am sad that you don't trust me anymore.. but i understand
i tried my best to explain to you and your husband in the spring that the optimal treatment at that time was not a hysterectomy. i truly did not and still did not believe that it is/ was. Perhaps you have already discussed this issue with Drs McAlpine and Swenerton. Because of the size of the cancer in the spring, chemotherapy and raidation therapy is the proven optimal treatment. A hysterectomy upon completion of therapy in the absence of known residual disease have never been shown to benefit the patient and actually has been demonstrated to be detrimental in some cases.

i would like to see you, anytime.. . if you can come in this afternoon even..
I don't know what else to say
i too am devastated with the situation and feel terrible about it... and in fact that is why i took last friday off... to be with my husband...and to review priorities
i am available to see you anytime

The Letter to My Oncologist - January 11

Hi Christina,

Kelly once told me that he imagined his death would be by saving someone's life; like a dear friend or a son. I wonder if he ever imagined dying while trying to save his own life. This it seems, is the very predicament that I am in.

After a week of strange love, anger, sadness and near psychosis, we've decided to invest our energy in being positive and functioning from the assumption that I will not die. Being positive for more than three or five minutes however is so very difficult. There are no words to describe this tug of war. There are visuals however; those of rope burn and muddy faces. As with anything, the restraint and discipline required to stay true and positive comes with practice; thankfully, we've decided to take the challenge.

I wanted to take a moment to share one of my problems with you. I believe that my ability to fight and to heal is directly linked to the trust I have in you and my other doctors. Sadly, I do not trust you anymore. I dont' trust you because you didn't listen to me and let's face it, I'm loud. Something between us is very different and I am very afraid, angry and tied in knots over it. I wonder (among the many patients you have feelings for), how you're feeling about the turn of events for me?

I need to know. I think I may even need an apology to move on. I might even need to hear from you that you didn't listen to me and that you made some mistakes. I may even want you to say something very special to me; something that provides some insight and some strength for me. I wonder if you are up for this challenge? I hope so, because I need to trust you to fight this. I can trust you when you demonstrate some of your most visceral thoughts and words; the kind you're not supposed to show your patients.

We are due to meet again on the 16th and I believe that there is nothing you will say to me that will be more difficult or more painful than what I've had to say my son, my husband, my mom and my closest friend. Have I got you all wrong in this? If so, please tell me, I will listen. Let's have a candid visit. Let's do it my way.

Thanks for reading this and holding it close to your heart,Treice Backs

The Essence of Kelly

On Terrorism

This morning I'm very tired. My face is puffy and my brain is foggy; I wish it was my period. I miss her; the whining onset of discomfort in the pelvis, the constant managing of products and underwear, the plump deep red droplets in toilet water - the deluge.

I met her when I was 14. She taught me so much and she gave me Max. When she died, she took with her all of my unborn children; a true terrorist. But it was the cancer who started it all, the caner who gave the orders.

Thank God we got Max before that cancer started silencing ovaries and imbuing grief in everything gold!

This is my second diagnosis. Everyday I think about the first time I was diagnosed and how very, very different it was. By the end of my treatment; by the time I was told I was cancer free, I had post traumatic stress syndrome and had vowed to teach the ignorant about cancer.

The first time around was different in many ways; including the way I was responded to. People said things like "cervical cancer? doesn't everyone get that?" or "cervical cancer? is that about lifestyle?" or my favourite, "cervical cancer? oh that, well they just give you a hysterectomy and then it's gone." I chose to teach instead of resent, I think everyone preferred it that way; but man, did those comments dart and hurt and shock. I suppose, in every convoluted and painful scenario, a little tact goes a long way. But like I said before, it's more natural this way - this has got the verisimilitude of book studied in Lit class.

In my last series of treatments, I had essentially nine, count them - 9 doctors appointments a week for 10 weeks. 5 Radiation appointments a week, 1 chemo appointment a week, 1 blood lab a week, 1 radiation follow up a week, 1 chemo follow up. I worked and took care of my baby and my husband and I really don't recall not performing well.

It was during this first series of treatments, that I learned this was my battle; that I was on my own and only I could fight it; in a lonely kind of way. I was surprised at how many people forgot I was going through that. The phone would ring and I'd say hey and then off and running into a conversation that didn't have the word cancer or treatment in it. Most people didn't know what to say to person who appeared to be together. And for some reason, it wasn't "really" cancer. The odds were good, it was mostly always curable. I remember a friend of mine told me she wished I'd break down more often so she could feel like she was helping!

It's different now, everyone is right here and very close. That scares me.

Screaming Underwater

My Father called me at work to tell me he had cancer. He was given a prognosis of 6 months. I remember the elevator ride; the falling vertigo from within it, and then emerging on to Georgia Street, deaf. There was a sea of passerby and transport on the street, all silent, and blurry and in slow motion like we were underwater.

I have the misfortune of knowing what it feels like to have had a loved one diagonosed and then killed by cancer. And now, I have the grave misfortune of knowing how he felt in each of the minutes, hours and days after his prognosis.

My friends and family, and even my acquaintances, need to figure out what part of this cancer is about them, then they need to deal with it. As for me, it's not too hard to figure out what part of this is about me; and I need to deal with that. Cancer hurts everyone involved; every single one.

For those that have felt the pains of not getting a return phone call or email from me, they need to isolate how it feels to not get called back, how it sends them into doubt about who they are and what they said, and then they need to multiply that feeling by a billion; that's the measure of pain for what I've been feelilng; it disables me.

Someone asked me if it's okay to cry around me. I like people who hear sad stories and cry; my psychiatrist even cried when I told her the facts! If no one that I know was crying, if no one said the wrong thing and if no one didn't know what to say, it would be an awful lot like the Truman Story, wouldn't it? How bizarre would that feel for me? Everyone smiling and saying the right thing all the time, yuck.

The Anvil on My Head

So I've got this anvil strapped to my head (the cancer), and everyone is telling me that I should exercise more! Hmmm, let's see... The other thing I hear a lot about is staying positive. That's a new title "How to Stay Fit and Stay Positive with an Anvil on Your Head". It's true that many cancer survivors speak to the role of positive thinking in their healing journeys, I don't doubt this. I do doubt however that they're including the first few days and weeks after their diagnosis' in their memories of their fights. For me, I think I need to get used to the weight of the anvil before I can make a promise to be fit and positive. I need to become accustomed to the headaches it brings, the tears, the lack of balance, the pain, the nerves, the fatigue, the shaking, the shortening of the spine, the breathlessness, the stress on my heart, the why me and the unknowns. When this new stressed body emerges, than I can really see what I'm capable of.

I don't like my Oncologist today; I think he should be in Radio.