A place where I can chronicle my family's journey through cancer. A place where WE can discuss our concerns. A place where WE can inspire each other. A place for hope.

Monday, May 31, 2010

LaLa Land

Have you ever experienced that odd sense of surrealism during treatment? Maybe surrealism is the wrong word here... Daze? Treatment has become such a regular fixture in our lives that what was once abnormal is now normal. You go through the days, living your new life. And when the times are good, things are usually not that bad. Aside from copious amounts of driving and needles, we have much to be thankful for. And so when you go from cycle to cycle, everything seems to all blend together into this massive clump of a routine that, unless something is different, you don't pay TOO much attention to. Its a bit like blissful ignorance... Maybe not ignorance, but more so of a blissful flatline, if you'll excuse the expression. But I'm not complaining, because no new news is good news. Treatment is going as expected. Today we had a consult for a kyphoplasty procedure, which is where they put this little balloon-thing in your vertebrae and fill it with cement to offset any compression fractures. The primary reason for this procedure is to relieve pain. Considering the fact that my mom's back pain is really the only thing that hinders her from doing the things she used to do (aside from some mild fatigue), this seemed like a great procedure for us. We were able to view the MRI and X-Ray slides she had, and wow. It was like a balloon popping. *snap* just like that, that dream-like state we were in, popped and we were brought back to reality. We were able to see exactly the effect that myeloma had on her bones, and that was like a rude reminder of her condition. We opted to go for the procedure, though, because the positives largely outweighed the negatives. I guess what I trying to say is that... We were enjoying the non-drama-ness (apologies for the baddd english lol) of what had become a routine for us. And now that we're approaching the end of our treatment (for now) and the beginning of what will be an undoubtedly arduous stem cell transplant process, we'll have to stop getting comfy and really gear up again. But, one must do what is necessary in order to be better again right? And of course, what is necessary is hardly ever easy. I think... The trick to being happy, because that is just as important as health (if not more), is to think you'll be ok. You have to view this as a chronic disease instead of something more ominous and dark. That's it, that's the trick. Because it is much more easier and comforting to try to lead a normal life if you see the disease in a different light. How can you possibly enjoy life if you are constantly thinking of how many more days you have left? It's more anxiety, pressure, and stress than anyone can handle, I'm sure! It is not a way to live. You are not being ignorant by approaching myeloma as a chronic disease because you are still very much aware of your condition, and more importantly, are taking the right measures to get better. We are very, very, very fortunate to have drugs out there that are not the stereotypical form of chemotherapy aka vomiting, nausea, hair-loss, etc. If you saw my mom, you would never think she had cancer. She looks very healthy. Maybe a little tired, but who isn't tired these days? What would be ignorant would be to stick your head in the sand and pretend like nothing is wrong... Until it is too late. I understand that fear can often be crippling, but what is more scary than cancer is the promise of death due to inaction. I'm sure by now you probably think this post is a bit random, that's because it is. I'm not really heading in any direction with this. Just saying what's on my mind :)
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network

1 comment:

  1. The abnormal becomes normal--you've summed it up beautifully. I send gentle hugs to your Mom.

    Rebecca Weber