I don’t know about you but I’ve been dragging a lot of crap around with me for a lot of years.
When my husband and I married, we brought our boxes o’ crap with us, unpacked what we needed and tossed the rest in the attic.
Those dual evil-doers, cancer and coronavirus, have kept me housebound but far from bored.
We’ve torn through those boxes, ridding everything that was “mine” and “yours” and making it ours.
On a personal level, I’ve sifted through every aspect of my life like a jeweler searching for precious stones to keep. I sorted 4 piles: Keep, donate, recycle, burn.
The burn pile, I admit, was my favorite.
I know, I know, probably not eco-friendly but seeing old party pics curl and burn, watching the drunk, dazed look on my face disappear along with bad boyfriends and fair-weather friends?
So gratifying.
Burn baby, burn.
Watching everything go up in smoke felt so freeing. I even burned the first draft of my manuscript, releasing myself from whatever expectations I have of it.
Don’t worry. I have another, far better draft.
Writing is rewriting.
Living is rewiring.
Tear out that old emotional crap associated with people, places and things that don’t serve you. You need permission?
Granted.
There are those who believe physical ailments are first created emotionally.
If that’s true, I must need some serious rewiring.
My week off chemo, I meet with Bruce Lee for a progress report. It’s late June and I feel good, strong.
Bruce Lee walks in and the first thing I notice is, he’s rather jovial. Cheery even, for an Oncologist.
“We’ve been measuring your CEA — carcinoembryonic antigen. It’s a protein the cancer makes that we measure in the blood, otherwise known as a tumor marker. It’s dropping: 9.6 in January, 9.1 in May and today? 6.9”
Daaayum. That’s good, right?
“That’s really good,” he confirms.
I wanna whoop. Because in addition to that substantial nugget of good news, that cursed pain in my abdomen radiating to my back is GONE.
“None at all?” Bruce Lee asks.
Poof.
He pats the sheeted gurney — Poke and prod time. He listens to my breathing, runs his gloved fingers along my neck, stops along the left side.
“There’s a little something here…” Unable to confirm, he continues down under my left collarbone, feeling for the barometer we’ve all been using: A nodule that used to be the size of a marble.
It’s shrinking. I know because I can barely feel it.
“I’m having a hard time finding it,” Bruce Lee admits. “And if this is what I’m feeling… It’s too small. I can’t measure that.”
Oh yea, a lot of whooping and laughing with Bruce Lee during that appointment. You would’ve thought he said the magic word, “Remission.”
Then this week rolled around.
TUESDAY
The left side of my neck looks swollen but I can feel a sizable lump in there. Instantly my heart races…
WTF? Where did that come from?
I barge into my husband’s home office, panic winging across my face.
His eyes widen, “What? What is it?!”
I show him.
“Allergic reaction,” he suggests.
“You think?”
“That’s what it looks like to me.”
I have been having some shortness of breath the past couple days. Figured it was related to Atropine — the new drug they put in my IV cocktail to counteract the massive stomach cramping caused by the chemo.
I read the side effects: Blah blah blah… in rare cases, swelling of face, tongue, throat.
As in, 1% rare.
Maybe I’m that 1%.
Glenn nods. “Go take some Benedryl.”
“I dunno…” I say. “It feels kind of solid.”
“Maybe it’s a fatty polyp,” he suggests. “Happens all the time. Go look it up — Google images.”
“Lipoma… Oh jeez.” I scour Google. “Hey. It kind of does look like that…”
“Told you.”
Still..
Still.
Bruce Lee shakes his head, eyes concerned behind the newly added face shield. “That’s not an allergic reaction.”
He pats the gurney and I hop up like a circus animal. He runs his fingers along my neck.
“It’s a mass. I can feel the borders. A couple of weeks ago I felt a little something there but…”
But we were too busy celebrating the good news. And in the space of two weeks, it has grown considerably. No way to miss it now.
“We’re moving up the CT scan to this week, adding the throat. STAT.”
Fuck. I hate that acronym. Both of them.
90% of the CTs I’ve gotten since December have been bad news. It’s a contrast CT which means: a) Fasting and B) Drinking that barium crap.
2 hour minimum following ingestion before I can be admitted for CT.
And then there’s STAT — When that label is attached to your medical order, there are additional procedures in place.
One of them is CLEARANCE: Meaning I’m not permitted to leave until the radiologist reviews the scan in case they need to pull me back in.
1 hour minimum. Waiting for technician to burn CDs: 20 minutes.
I’m going to be at the damned hospital all day.
WEDNESDAY
Just as I thought, I’m at the damned hospital all day.
FRIDAY
Glenn and I fidget next to the sheeted gurney, waiting for Bruce Lee with the results of the throat to pelvis CT scan.
It’s been a painfully slow week, my emotions rolling close to the surface.
Thursday afternoon, I crept into my husband’s office in tears.
“The beach,” I managed. “I need to get out.”
We walked Strands to Salt Creek, crowded with kids, teenagers and bustling families. No wonder California is a petri-dish. We were the only ones wearing masks.
No bloodwork today, no weigh-in, just vitals.
My pulse clocked in at 91.
“Geez-us — you’re freaking out,” Glenn says.
Yup.
Bruce Lee walks in. Not jovial. Not concerned. Determined.
“Your CEA count from Tuesday: Dropped to 3.8.”
Wow. That’s good. But the lump…?
“Cancer. Located in the lymph nodes beneath the muscle and obviously, it’s growing.”
He rattles off measurements. Overall, the cancer is growing and all the areas of growth are in my lymph nodes, the preferred means of travel by the cancer it seems.
“Your lungs– Multiple nodules, the largest measuring 7.5mm.”
Wait. That’s good news. Before the largest was 10mm…
And the cancer MUST be shrinking in the primary site in my colon because my pain is gone.
It’s a mixed bag of news and I’m a bit confused.
“So, how is it that my CEA count is dropping significantly, my bloodwork is crazy good, and the cancer is growing?”
“This tells me the cancer is changing,” Bruce Lee replies.
Changing how? Adapting. That sneaky, shifty little bitch.
“Is it normal for her to feel this good?” Glenn asks. “I mean, look at her.”
Right. Despite hair loss, weight loss and a third nipple, I’m the picture of health. It is baffling though, just how good I feel.
“No,” Bruce Lee says. “It’s not.”
This I chalk up to Transformation: If the cancer is changing, that means I have to change enough to overcome it. So I meditate, eat organic, work out and reach out to friends and family on a near daily basis.
Believe me, I don’t always feel like it. This week, I hung out with more than a few sour patch kids. But the gloves are back on.
Tuesday I start a new chemo regime: Round 3.
I’m not sure how many rounds there are but I’m going to the bitter end, until the cancer drops or I do.
Right now, the cancer seems to have the upper hand. The tumor in my neck is squishing my jugular vein.
While other veins have picked up the blood load between heart and head, there is the danger of blood clots in this particular vein.
“We may have to introduce blood thinners,” Bruce Lee offers. “Radiation is also an option.”
I’m nodding before he even finishes. I don’t need or want more medication. Nuke that mutherf–
That’s right. Burn baby, burn.
So glad you are still sharing your journey!!
Our true warrior!!! Reading this makes us stop and pause . Makes us reflect on whatever we are going through, we need to think of others that need our love and support more that this damn virus!!
Thoughts and prayers to you and your loved ones!! You got this and we got you!! Xoxo 😘
I just can’t wait for the day I get to read your entire autobiography. You’re such a fantastic writer. I feel like I’m there with you. I sure hope you’re keeping a shit ton of notes because when this is all behind you, you’re gonna have a hell of a story!
Love you so much!!!
I love this and hate this it’s written so well and the fact is it’s Awful, I look forward to reading it, and hate when it is over. It really is hard to believe you could possibly be going through so much and sound so good, I know you are a gifted writer, but I can feel your strength and you’re Amazing. ❤🙏🔥
I find myself lost in your writing! I look forward to reading your words, but cringe at what I’m about to read at the same time! I hate that this cancer is so aggressive, but I know you are a warrior and full of grit and spirit! Thank you for sharing your epic journey with all of us! Sending you massive love and ((hugs)) 💗💗
Keep the faith Valerie. All these ups and downs are unsettling but you are playing the long game. Sending so much love your way.
I THINK OF YOU EVERY MORNING AND YOU ARE IN MY 🙏🙏❗️😘😘RC❤️RC❤️RC❤️
Nuke is right….this thing needs to go !! I love your fighting spirit and im positive its not always easy……you are in my thoughts and prayers and you have a whole army right there with you 💜
Praying daily for you, Val. ❤️ Your inner strength and resolve are awe inspiring. Continue to make Bruce Lee smile.
Val, You are such a strong woman. I believe when we take alcoholic anonymous over our sick behavior we see the strength God gives us. You are unbelievable. I wish I could go wuff and it would go away. Your last writing makes me happy and then bam. It looks like you have the best between Mark and Bruce Lee. I will continue to pray for you and your recovery. We need you. Thanks for being such a positive woman. You are a true inspiration.
Thank you for the beautiful note.
Beautifully written and painful to read. Thank you for allowing us on this journey with you. Sending hugs and prayers your way, Val ❤️ You’ve got this!!!
Hi Val. I’m sending you so many prayers & good thoughts. Keep up the good fight! It’s worth it. I know you’re going to beat this Honey!❤️🙏
I never knew just how GOOD of a writer you were , Valerie. I’m really embarrassed that I didn’t know this about you. I’ve been thinking about you lately, and waiting for your next post. I pray for you consistently. Your strength, your COMMITMENT to strength inspires me. Thank you for sharing this time in your life with us. I definitely want to read your account of this when you’re through it.
Your writing is SO good. I do love all the cuss words as well, cuz sometimes they are the only words that are appropriate for the meaning!! Thanks so much for sharing your journey with us all!! We have not worked together in years, however, I can still hear your wonderful laugh in my head!! you take care & I will look forward to your next post!! LOVE sent your way from me!!
I adore you. If there is a woman in the world who could make pain look so eloquently horrifying–it is you.
You teach me, always, the power of words.
Love you.
Thank you for the update dear……Continued prayers from me and Amy to you my sweet sweet soul.
You continue to amaze me with your grit and killer instinct. Cancer has found a formidable foe. Keep on keepin on. I’m blessed to know you.
Valerie
Long time….that doesn’t mean your not in my every thought. I’m in awe of your strength and your zest for life. Never loose sight of how many people love you and have your back.
I carry your heart, in my heart💋
Hi Val,
This was my favorite part……….
“This I chalk up to Transformation: If the cancer is changing, that means I have to change enough to overcome it. So I meditate, eat organic, work out and reach out to friends and family on a near daily basis.”
You make EVERY day count!! You are not wasting one moment. I love that! We can all learn from you.
Hang in there!!!! Sending hugs and love ❤️
I’m a card carrying member of TEAM VAL!!! Your spirit and attitude are amazing. Sending love and strength your way! ❤️
You are a warrior and truly a gift to all of us. You depict what you’re going through, like no other. You bring tears to my eyes through your journey. I feel love for you, with all my heart. I wipe away the tears and know, you, are one of the strongest people I know. You’re going to beat this ugly monster, right out of your body. Keep fighting my beautiful, inside and out, Valerie! You are such an inspiration. ❤️😘
Beautiful, talented, fierce Val, VS that “sneaky, shifty little bitch” … Round 3? Looks like you’re going to have to teach that bully a lesson.
Kick it’s ass!
Sending you prayers and love! 🙏❤️
Praying for Gods touch upon your body. What a gifted writer you are. I feel you in your words. I feel your frustration, angst, and your hope. Continued prayers. Love you💕
Put it in the burn pile! XO
My sweet friend, you are such an inspiration ♥️ I love your writing and feel like I’m right there with you. I hate that this is happening to you, I love that you are staying strong and sharing every step of the way with all that love you. You are my hero and I love you and admire every thing about you. You got this girl!! My prayers and thoughts are of you every day. Big hugs to you my beautiful friend 😘
Hi Val, I’ve been following your journey from the beginning and I’m touched and inspired by all you are going through. You are such a gifted writer and make me want to read more. Thank you for allowing us to be part of your life. So inspiring! You’ve been and will always be in my prayers. Sending you love, hugs and much needed strength to get through this. Love you and miss flying with you!
Val: My husband and I thin about yu every day. I pray that some thing will help you.
You are so beautiful and have work so hard to make a life for you and your handsome
husband. I pray that they will find something to help you. Much love and
prays going your way. Ihope Iget to meet you.
Love Aunt Fran