One Thing Leads to Another

Don and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary today. We went out for lunch and then shared a cake with the kids here at home. Luckily, my appetite has returned so food is actually fun again.

Last week was an interesting week. I started the week feeling terrible and ended it in the hospital. On Wednesday evening, I was having severe chest pain that started in my back and felt like someone was stabbing a knife through to my chest. After a slew of tests at the emergency room (EKG, blood work, CT, CXR), I was admitted because my EKG was abnormal. When I saw my cardiologist on Thursday, he ordered a chemical stress test to look for a blockage. Fortunately, there is no blockage. Unfortunately, this most likely means that the adriamycin has done some mild damage to my heart muscle. Will it get worse? There's no way to know at this point. It will need to be monitored closely for progression. In the meantime, I can continue my current chemo plan.

SO -- tomorrow morning, I will have CT scans beginning at 9 a.m. I say "beginning", because by the time I check in, drink barium, get an IV for dye, and actually have the scans, it will be tomorrow afternoon. These results will go to California, and next week we will find out if this treatment has been effective or if we have reached another dead end in this great and confusing maze, otherwise known as my life.

I am feeling stronger than I have since the last treatment, and surprisingly optimistic. I might as well keep the hope alive for right now. But I have to admit that the chest pain really frightened me. Sometimes it feels like I am hanging by one fragile thread, and a stiff wind or even an untimely breeze might send me spiraling into the abyss. It's hard NOT to be afraid, especially when I am physically very weak and weary.

Once in a while, I indulge in the fantasy of what my life would be like if one day, one glorious day, the cancer was gone and I could lay claim to my life again. I dream of the things I could do, of the the good I would do for the world, of the things I have lost that might be regained. I picture myself working, volunteering, driving, swimming, walking. It's a lovely, happy journey -- not a self-pitying one as it might seem, but one that is full of the unfettered hope of a child, the innocent belief that anything is possible. But then of course I am not a child, and I cannot waste a lot of precious time on pie-in-the-sky thinking. It's time to gird myself up for battle again, and to concentrate on finding peace WITHIN the battle rather than dreaming of life beyond it.

:-) Sharon