CANCER REVISITED
I have had a pain in my hip that has caused me to progressively limp for the past several weeks. It started about the same time that my friend, JC, so generously loaned me his BMW convertible for a few weeks so I could see how I liked the car. I needed to replace my beloved '98 Jag and was considering the BMW convertible until I found it to be very low and thus too difficult to enter and exit. That plus the clutch led me to believe that I had pulled a muscle. Ah no. An MRI last week indicated that there were lesions (holes in direct parlance!) in my femur and I was at serious risk of fracture. A fracture with myeloma would apparently complicate treatment in ways that I don't fully understand. Consequently I am remaining at home and using crutches to move about, go waterskiing etc.
Tomorrow, Monday, I will receive word from Elizabeth, my oncology fellow, as to when I am to go to Boston and for what purpose; ie: orthopedic evaluation, radiation, surgery or all of it. At the moment I really don't know what will be happening next other than that I will be in Boston for several weeks. In the eloquent summation of one of my closest friends: "Fuck!"
Beyond that, I am okay. Okay does not necessarily mean good or happy. It simply means okay. The mature part of me recognizes that such events are part of the process of having myeloma and are entirely predictable. You may have heard me say that the light at the end of my tunnel is the headlight on the front of a locomotive! I know that the relative normalcy of my life this past year and a half sitting by the river enjoying the sunlight and the breeze or bringing people together at the Community Cook-Outs, or having long cafe lunches with delightful friends, or just bopping around doing errands would come to a halt sometime. What I don't know is if this is the time. And since I don't know if and when I will be able to return to the home and life I love, I have an outraged six-year-old inside of me screaming:"NO! I DON'T WANNA GO! I WANNA STAY HOME!" God, he can be a pain-in-the-ass! So I do all I can to soothe his fears and turn my attention to the beauty that surrounds me, the extraordinary friends that support me, and the brilliant competance of the medical team that works their magic upon my complicated body.
I have had a pain in my hip that has caused me to progressively limp for the past several weeks. It started about the same time that my friend, JC, so generously loaned me his BMW convertible for a few weeks so I could see how I liked the car. I needed to replace my beloved '98 Jag and was considering the BMW convertible until I found it to be very low and thus too difficult to enter and exit. That plus the clutch led me to believe that I had pulled a muscle. Ah no. An MRI last week indicated that there were lesions (holes in direct parlance!) in my femur and I was at serious risk of fracture. A fracture with myeloma would apparently complicate treatment in ways that I don't fully understand. Consequently I am remaining at home and using crutches to move about, go waterskiing etc.
Tomorrow, Monday, I will receive word from Elizabeth, my oncology fellow, as to when I am to go to Boston and for what purpose; ie: orthopedic evaluation, radiation, surgery or all of it. At the moment I really don't know what will be happening next other than that I will be in Boston for several weeks. In the eloquent summation of one of my closest friends: "Fuck!"
Beyond that, I am okay. Okay does not necessarily mean good or happy. It simply means okay. The mature part of me recognizes that such events are part of the process of having myeloma and are entirely predictable. You may have heard me say that the light at the end of my tunnel is the headlight on the front of a locomotive! I know that the relative normalcy of my life this past year and a half sitting by the river enjoying the sunlight and the breeze or bringing people together at the Community Cook-Outs, or having long cafe lunches with delightful friends, or just bopping around doing errands would come to a halt sometime. What I don't know is if this is the time. And since I don't know if and when I will be able to return to the home and life I love, I have an outraged six-year-old inside of me screaming:"NO! I DON'T WANNA GO! I WANNA STAY HOME!" God, he can be a pain-in-the-ass! So I do all I can to soothe his fears and turn my attention to the beauty that surrounds me, the extraordinary friends that support me, and the brilliant competance of the medical team that works their magic upon my complicated body.
1 comment:
Hi Dear!
Well, fuck indeed! Here's the thing, the wonder that is you flows out from your mind. Your body is a fantastic vehicle for your spirit and I wish it to be cancer free, pain free, limber, strong and running down a river bank. And though the physical body is so very important, I am, in this moment, filled with the ENERGY that is you, that comes through loud and clear in your written words. Reading your posts just now gave me a few minutes again with one of my most favorite people on the planet-YOU. I could easily see you again sitting on the veranda breathing June air at the hotel in Siena, Italy, and on the top of the red rocks of Sedona, and at the edge of the water in Lake Tahoe, and facing the sunset in the desert outside Sante Fe, and driving with you from Boston to Larchmont in your Jaguar on a snowy December day. I wish there were a way that I and all the people who adore you, could each take a bit of your cancer and pain leaving you perfect again. You are SO, SO, SO loved in this world. Tell that stupid freaking cancer to get the hell out of my friend now! I'll keep popping over for visits with my cup of tea and peeking in on your blog to see what's new. Thanks, Gary, for taking the time to create this space where I can sit with you and visit for a minute. It's my park bench. I'm giving you a big hug and pouring you a glass of cabernet. Clink. Here's to you love.
XOXO, Mimi
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