Thursday, October 11, 2007

Numbness

Well, the news is in and it isn't pretty. I called Teri yesterday on the way to work to ask about a flu shot and see if the results of the CT were back. They were and she was direct with me on the news. What I am feeling, pain-wise, is not my imagination. The tumors are increasing in size, location and number. And this seems to be happening rapidly.

Ovarian cancer (Google it, if you haven't already) is a fast growing, hard to treat cancer if in stages III or IV. Mine started out in Stage Ic, but now, well, we might as well be dealing with a IV.

This was, to use the word Lindsey Lohan used about rehab, "sobering" news. Not unexpected, but you know, when you hear the hard stuff in black and white, so to speak, it can knock the wind out of you.

I called Jamie, then drove to work and actually had a great and productive day, all the while on the pain meds. I am taking Vicodin freely now, not in excess, since I drive, but enough to take away the pain more or less during the day. I basically consumed the meds and coffee yesterday until dinner. Never felt hungry until about 4 PM, and not much then.

And I didn't really react emotionally to this all day, other than to feel a sense of dread every so often. I talked about it with a board member, and also with one colleague, then went about my business.

Jamie and I spent time together last night, eating leftovers and trying to talk. I still felt the protective shields all around me, it was hard not to be either sarcastic (we discussed how to deal with giving away the contents of my bedroom, "after after" as we have started to call it). But it was impossible to cry. I am not in denial, far from it, but I just feel the pressure of my to do list, both at work (where there really is no pressure at all) and personally, to accomplish all the damn paperwork and such to move forward on the trust, the disability, and the other gazillion things.

I feel like I need to just get into a meditative space for a bit, then wait until the feelings come up. Which I am sure they will, right? This is surreal stuff, this accelerated dying thing.

I liked it better when I thought I had three to five years. That is out of the question now, and I am thinking I had better prioritize my "must do" travel list, because it looks like time is not on my side on this one.

I dread becoming less able to care for myself, I have never ever been a "good patient" in that way, and this doesn't bode well. I don't need a lot of physical assistance now, but I suspect this will change rapidly. All too rapidly.

Jamie Googled "end stage ovarian cancer" and the results were not pretty. I hope that my insurance will cover a home health nurse, because I want Jamie to be focused on Sofie and not on my care. We even talked a bit about hospice vs. home last night.

I would like to go back to a year ago, when I thought this battle had been won and the hard part was over. This totally sucks.

1 comment:

Joseph said...

Debra--

Joe Swimmer here. Michael had sent your blog address some time ago and I wanted to check on how you are doing. I hate to hear the news, and saying I'm so sorry is likely to fall on deaf ears. You are handling this moment so valiantly. There is no way we can imagine what you are going through, but know that you are in my thoughts and prayers. If there is anything that we can help with do let us know. And, most importantly, keep up the courageous fight.