Here We Go Again!

Today is the 10th of May, 2012. Eight or nine months ago I had finished my Radiation therapy, the Chemotherapy time was becoming a memory, and I was getting ready for a lap around the Eastern Mediterranean with my husband David, and my sister and brother in law. My only concern then was staying out of direct sun, and not overdoing things, for I was a bit weak and tired easily.


As my treatment ended eight or nine months ago I felt no great euphoria, but I was generally content. I looked forward to going back to work at St. Mary's Hospital. Life was good: I had a wonderful husband, two really nice children and the smartest, most beautiful grandchildren that you ever could imagine.


In November I went back to work. My return to work made me feel not only that life was good; life was also normal! On the 24th of November we attended a fund-raising dinner in my honour, sponsored by the Kitchener Waterloo Multicultural Centre. What a magical evening it was! I loved seeing so many people, from different parts of my life, enjoying a fine meal and a good time together.


Christmas was a wonderful time. My son John and his partner came to visit from California. We went to Ioanna's house in Ottawa and enjoyed children's games, a beautiful church service, good meals and laughter, lots of laughter.. For the first time I went out in public without my wig -- my hair was finally long enough!


In January we went to the lake and experienced the winter landscapes so typical of the Addington Highlands region.  Life was indeed good. 


I started getting a pain in my ribs around the 9th of January. At first my doctor  thought it was reminiscent of shingles pain. Soon after that, however, it was clear that the pain was concentrated around several ribs. A bone scan and a bone density test showed nothing suspicious, other than three broken ribs.


In January there were pain killers, waiting for the ribs to heal, a fainting spell in the elevator at work, and all kinds of tests as a result of that. I continued to work, still feeling pain, but taking pain killers and waiting for the ribs to heal.


A trip to Cuba in February allowed us to enjoy the warmth and beauty of a beautiful country and of a fun time in the sun and sea. I was still in pain, but felt the ribs were healing. I kept taking my pain killers.


Easter at the lake with my daughter and her family and with David's sister Carolyn, her husband Gord and their son Malcolm. The holy day brought the enticing aromas of Easter cookies and bread, lamb, ham, and the glorious assurance of new life after the dead winter. Resurrection was all around us, and also the delightful news that Malcolm and Suzanne were expecting a child in the summer.


More pain killers, and more waiting for the ribs to heal. My doctor thought it was time for an x-ray. That showed that the ribs were healing. But why the pain? We discussed metastasis. "I will send you for another scan and if it is what we think it is, I will refer you to Grand River".


It was what we thought. The report states that the considerable change between the January and April scans is "consistent with metastasis".  This was followed by another referral to Grand River Cancer Centre. My appointment will be on the 15th of May. 


Last week was not an easy one. "Here we go again", I thought. I asked myself "How do I tell my son and my daughter?" It is easy to tell good news, but how do you communicate bad news on the phone? You cannot see facial expressions. Even the voice can play tricks through the phone lines. How to interpret silence at the other end? How do I keep my voice even and steady? How do I keep from chattering idle words? Will I be able to  sound balanced and calm, or will my voice break? 


Finally, I asked myself, "wouldn't my children prefer me to be honest?"  My children are grown up and have a trusting relationship with me. This last question helped me to focus on telling my children the truth, without minimizing the issue. I realized that they would want to know as soon as I know, rather than have me manipulating the truth and the timing. Our conversations last Saturday, while serious and sad, were inspiring, loving and encouraging. 


My husband reminds me that I never closed my blog last year. I know. Why didn't I? Was I weary of sounding too over confident? Was I waiting for the other boot to fall? Was it just another example of my inability to process goodbyes?


Today I am thinking, here we go again. How do I deal with metastasis? How do I stop doing the job I love? How? Was this supposed to happen? Why do I feel so sad? 


Then I ask myself, "Is it time to take to the road again?" Yes! Again we set off on the road to Santiago. We are not there yet. We walk, get tired, fall, get up, walk some more, take a break, get tired, make the wrong turn, come back again to the main road. The Road to Santiago continues to be a metaphor for life. Now more than ever, walking to Santiago is the best metaphor for this life we are living. Thank you David, for reminding me that I did not close my blog last fall! The way to Santiago continues, this time through the land of metastasis. I invite you to come with me, let us go, the road is waiting; the pilgrimage continues. 


... and we will see you again,  with the pain and a few broken and cracked ribs, with a few tears now and again, with joy and laughter and hope. It is a different kind of hope this time, but we will always be hopeful, always exultant, moving toward a shining goal. We will see you again, on the way to Santiago!