I’ve always loved roller coasters. They’re my favorite ride at amusement parks. I love the anticipation of climbing the huge hill, knowing the thrill of the plunge I’m about to take. Racing around each corner, not knowing what lies ahead, and then in the end, coming to a screeching hault with a huge smile on my face. I always take a deep breath and immediately think, “Thank God it’s over!” followed by “Let’s go again!”
Cancer is very much like a roller coaster, but I can’t get off, and I don’t feel like going again. Friday, the devastating news about the spread of disease from 10 years ago. Today, better news. Whatever they saw on the ct scan in my liver, wasn’t seen on the ultrasound last night. I spent over two hours at the hospital last night. My ultrasound got put at the bottom of the priority list due to emergency room situations. So much for making an appointment. I guess accident victims trump cancer patients. The ultrasound techs (yes, it took two of them) couldn’t find anything…..and believe me they looked. For an hour and 15 minutes…..they looked. Does it mean there is nothing there? No, it might just be very small. Either way, better news.
Tomorrow I have a PET CT scan which will require the injection of radioactive glucose, waiting an hour, and then a 20 minute scan. This should show anything and everything. Good, because hopefully we’ll know the big picture and see what we’re up against. Bad, because there is no hiding from the truth. It’s one of those situations where part of you wants to know, and part of you wants to remain blissfully ignorant.
In the meantime, I keep praying. I pray that it won’t be as devastating as I first thought. I pray that the entire ct scan was a complete screw up and I am cancer free (except for the breast). I pray that the spread is minimal and manageable. I pray that my roller coaster of emotions isn’t damaging those around me. I pray that everyone that says they’re praying, is still praying. I think I’ve prayed more in the past week, then the past 10 years. But, if it works, I will forever be a believer in it’s power.
I’m surviving these painful days of tests and waiting by praying, leaning on the shoulders of my friends and family who are always there, and taking ativan. Waiting has got to be worse than any actual treatment I’ve ever undergone. I’ve been through it all…..surgery, chemo, radiation, drugs……trust me….waiting is the worst. I will begin to build my will to fight, I just need a clear picture of my enemy and what I’m up against. Hopefully, it will become clear soon.
I can’t say thank you enough for all of the emails, texts, cards, gifts, thoughts, and prayers. I may be waiting for answers to many questions, but I’ve never had to question whether I’m in this alone. Because clearly, I am not!
First of all, you are such a great writer (I thought it, but my mom actually said it when I read her the blog). You bet we are still praying, honestly, I am pretty good at saying my prayers, but this one is big. Actually, this one is huge and I won’t stop praying for you. Miracles do happen, I keep praying that this is your miracle and that you will find out that you don’t have cancer anywhere but the breast. Your emotions are well deserved and I am happy to be here to cry with and vent with. You are amazing Kay! Love to you my dear friend!!
I agree with Kayla….you are a beautiful writer. Prayers are flowing from me and my family. Prayers will work miracles. I truly believe in the power of prayer. I am always here for you! I am so happy that finally good news. Thank Goodness! You really are awesome!
Don’t drink and ativan! We love you Kay! You are in my thoughts and prayers!
You should seriously get your blog out there somehow for others in your situation to read. You express your feelings so well, and in such a beautiful way. I am praying for you, Nick and Mark. Cancer is scary and it sucks, and I am soooo sorry you have to deal with it once more.