While it has been some time since I did an update of this Journal, the reason I'm doing so at this particular time is because something happened recently that I feel it important to share with those who have cancer, certainly, but something that can be of benefit to others, too.

As I progressed down the journey through cancer, the way was fraught with trials and tribulations, many difficult choices and decisions, and many setbacks in my physical condition due not only to the cancer, but the aggressive treatment needed to put it at bay.  As I looked back on that period, it was a long series of beginnings.  I would make progress, it would knock me down, and I’d have to begin again on that long road back to strength and “life among the living.”  Although I’ve probably said it many times, I feel cancer is best characterized by a terrible, incessant tiredness that permeates your entire body.  The kind where you can hardly force yourself to lift your finger.  This particular tiredness, however, is not refreshed by resting or sleeping.  When you wake up you are often even more tired than previous to resting.  The treatment has the effect of increasing that tiredness, and my doctor says that basically it is the cancer saying “This is too hard, lie down and rest, and don’t fight it.”  And, that is exactly what you must not do.  To stop fighting, and to give in to those strong urges, you allow the cancer to surge forward, and are giving up the battle – the battle for life. 

While all of us have times of depression, sadness and weakness, and occasionally give in to it for a short period, it is the struggle against that tiredness that typifies cancer to me.

After my three years of battling the cancer, and finishing treatment in December 2003 the doctor reported that all that could be seen on the x-rays was what he called a “shadow” in the area where there previously had been a large tumor.  He said they were not sure if there could be a few live cancer cells still living there, or if it were simply scar tissue, so we needed to watch it.

He also made it clear that one of the main characteristics of my type of cancer is that it returns, usually in another location, of a more serious, or difficult to treat, kind of cancer such as bone cancer, liver cancer, or a brain tumor.  He told me I was not well, I was still a cancer patient, and would be treated with new drugs if I were willing, in an effort to prevent, or treat the cancer when it returned.

I had gone through five different chemo combination treatments, and one of a combination of 37 radiation treatments given in conjunction with chemo treatments.  Due to the aggressive nature of my tumor, my last round of treatments was the most aggressive available, and the most damaging to my body.

Depression and stress were difficult for me to deal with at times, which is normal, but depression runs in my family, and was of great concern to me from the beginning.  Stress has been shown to be a contributing factor to the onset of cancer, and the effectiveness with which you deal with it during treatment can have a very real effect on your treatment and recovery.  I found that the only way I could cope with it was to try to remain alert for signs of it, and then try to deal with it before it “took over.”  I had to constantly re-evaluate and prioritize, and learn to just let go of many things during treatment.  I’d always been a very organized person, and if it took pushing myself to the limit to keep things that way, then I always managed to do so.  Well, that simply didn’t work.  I was ill five years prior to diagnosis, and my body was in poor condition when I began to battle cancer.  I had to let go of many things, and at times more than I was comfortable with.  When I prioritized, however, I was able to keep the most important things in front of me so I could focus on those, and let the other things fall away for the time being.  After all, what did it matter if the floor was mopped today, tomorrow, or next week if I were struggling just to maintain life?  It didn’t.

We left Alaska for Oregon within two weeks of the time I finished that treatment, and it seems like a dream now, I was so very sick and tired.  Immediately on our arrival in Oregon we went to southern California, as my mother, 86 years old, was very ill, and because I wanted to, very badly, we spent most of the next few months caring for her until her death in March 2004.  I was ill-equipped to do this, but with Jim’s help, and the Lord’s, I managed.  By time it was over and we returned home I was in shock over her death, and quite ill.  I began on that long road back one more time, and by the first of July I had made progress.  I could get around better, was steadily gaining strength and vigor, and we made one week-long camping trip before having a very minor surgery done that was necessary, having been put off for several years while I had the cancer treatment. 

Due to my blood vessels not having recovered from the effects of chemo, however, four simple stitches translated into four solid months of complete bed rest for me, and it was November again before I could rise and begin to move around.  Well, complete bed rest at my age, and my physical condition can do some terrible things to your body, I found out.  I was as frail as my mother had been shortly before her death.  My muscles had deteriorated away, my skin looked like it belonged to someone else, and I was as weak as a newborn babe.

So, once again I began from square one, and I know now I was in worse shape then that at any other time.  It was at this point the doctor asked me to take some new medication, to prepare for the return of the cancer.  We now both feel that he was sure I did not have long to live, and he told me at that time that I had just passed the average life expectancy of my profile, and my case.  That news was a shock to me, and while I never, at any point reached the place where it even entered my mind to no longer fight, I was daunted by the work I had ahead of me.  The inactivity had also exaggerated some other health problems, unrelated to the cancer.  I inherited very poor circulation, and the long period of inactivity had caused this problem to become quite serious.  I was told I would soon be losing toes if I did not take corrective measures.  My hips, which have some pretty hefty arthritis, had become much worse over this time period and I could no longer climb steps without a railing or help, or even rise from a chair unless I used my arms to lift and support the hips.  Both of those problems created additional problems for walking and increased exercise, which I had to have.

 I bought a treadmill and began using it, and devised a schedule of a combination of exercise and elevation that provided some relief for the circulation problems and the arthritis, while it increased my overall periods of exercise and activity, moving me along the road to strength again.

I spent the next few months working on these problems, and gradually returned to a more normal life.  I could do most all the work around the house again, and since my immune system had improved, this year for the first time in years I was able to do my own grocery shopping, attend meetings and be around people.

While I was pleased at the progress I made, something didn’t seem right.  At some point in the spring I discovered that the incessant tiredness that accompanies cancer was no longer present, but don’t even remember now just when it left.  It was a joy to awake refreshed after a night’s sleep, and I took much pleasure in simple things that I had been unable to do for a long time.  Still, even with this knowledge, I was not as happy as I thought I’d be.

It took some time and serious prayer to identify what the problem was, and when the Lord finally led me to it, it was a shock to me.  Somehow, with all the problems I was having, my perception of myself had changed.  I realized that if someone commented on how nice it was that I was well, in my mind I would think “But I am not well, I still have cancer, and it will be back…”  The very fabric of my life had changed, as I contemplated the direction of my life, by thoughts of “Who knows how much longer I have…” and other such thoughts as I made decisions on what I wanted or needed to do.

Let me make it clear that I do not find any fault with the things my doctor has told me regarding all this. He is charged with getting and keeping me as healthy as possible, and is dedicated to following my wishes as to treatment, care, and quality of life.  That’s his job, and he is very good at it.  It was me that lost sight of some very important things, and here are the conclusions I was able to draw from this realization when it was revealed to me.

Today I am well, and cancer-free, albeit a little the worse for wear (especially right now, since I broke my ankle two weeks ago).  I have been cancer-free for more than 18 months now.  There are several ways in which people can classify their cancer recovery.  They can be pronounced cured, recovered, or in remission.  I am none of those things.  My cancer is only cured through surgery, not an option for me, and they do not class me as either of the other two.  A cancer survivor, however, is someone who has come through as I have, so I guess that best describes me at the present time.  I had it, I fought it, and it is gone today because of that.

So what about tomorrow?  Let look at some new statistics.  The American Cancer Society’s 2005 report states that slightly less than 50% of ALL men, and slightly less than 1/3 of ALL women living today in this country will have to deal with having cancer at some point in their lives.  More than 1,300,000 people are expected to be diagnosed with cancer in 2005 alone.  That is chilling news, and it points directly to the fact that none of us – not one human, has any guarantees in this life.  Do you know that you will be cancer-free tomorrow?  Of course not.  Do you worry about it coming tomorrow?  I’m willing to bet that while you may think about it at times, that it is not a constant worry and you don’t base your life on the fear that it will come tomorrow.  I certainly didn’t, prior to being diagnosed.  We also don’t know if we’ll have a heart attack, a stroke, or a fatal accident of some kind tomorrow.  Those are the chances we take in life.

So, despite the fact that I feel my doctor was right in telling me all that he did, I fell down in my duty to keep it all in perspective.  Since I didn’t concern myself overly with these things prior to cancer, and since life is more precious to me now that I’ve had to fight for it, why should I waste even one moment of my time in worry about something that might happen tomorrow?  For despite what the “data” (meaning statistics) say, I don’t need a certain percentage of chances, I need just one, and because I am Christian, I believe that is completely under the control of God, and it is He alone who will decide when this life on earth ends for me.

There – my new philosophy.  So what effect has this had on my life at the present time?  Well, it has made a very great difference.  The Lord has given me peace with this burden, and I now feel free to move forward and live life more fully than I was able to, prior to this.  It has restored enthusiasm to my life, and an eagerness to experience new things and go forward with plans for life that I had lost somewhere along this long journey.

How has this translated into practical application?  Well, probably the most important change is one that has probably been coming for some time.  We find that we enjoy life most when we are somewhere other than here, mostly due to my health problems and how this climate and environmental factors affect it here.  It has become increasingly clear that my allergies, and damage to my lungs and bronchial tubes from radiation are not suited to the cold winters, the makeup of soil (which is actually fine pumice), the breezes that send it through our house all summer long, and other concerns of this kind.

Many of our friends, our favorite activities, and the joy we find in the nature of another area has prompted us to decide on another move, as much as we both hate the thought of moving.  And, we have determined not only to move, but to build our own home there.  One in which we can be assured the home itself is not going to contribute to my health problems, and thus can enjoy life more fully.

We are both very excited about this, and while it is not going to happen immediately, we are already deep in plans.  A project of this magnitude takes a lot of pre-planning, and that’s where we are right now, deciding exactly what we want and need, and drawing rough plans to see what size and style house would be best.  This is particularly fun for me, and I am deep in photos and drawings so I can show Jim just what I’m thinking of, since he is a “visual” type and I have to show him, I can’t just tell him.  

On one recent long drive we had a very lively discussion about what type of heat source we wanted, and didn’t reach any conclusion, as it will take more research.  After we’d been silent a few moments, Jim said “Okay, now lets argue about the septic!,” and we both had a good laugh.

I feel that my life has been restored, and it has.  I have taken steps to pursue writing again, something I’ve been wanting to do for some time, and have submitted a couple of articles to magazines.  It will probably be several months before I hear whether they are interested, and if not, I’ll submit them to other magazines.  I can already see myself sitting in my new home, working on stories at my computer, and the feeling of peace that brings is a great comfort to me.

Even the adventure of getting to that point is fun and an adventure for us.  We hope to have the perfect piece of property by early next spring, and then will camp on the property in our camp trailer and a set-up under a tarp for the summer, while we build.  We will get some help where necessary, but prefer to do as much of this ourselves as we can.  Our goal is to be able to build for the cash we realize from the sale of our present home, and that’s not an unrealistic goal, although we’ll have a very small budget.  It will take giving up some things to get what’s important to us, shopping around to get deals (I love a good deal!), and putting a whole lot of sweat equity into it. 

Both of us have the knowledge and skills to do this, and Jim now has the tools needed.  We also have complementary skills, so in many cases where he is weak I am strong, and vice versa, and we work well together.  It will truly be a great adventure, and while it won’t be easy, the rewards gained by having the perfect house suited for us, without a mortgage, is a dream we will work hard to attain.

I plan to begin a “House Building Journal” when we get further along that I’ll post on the website as we go through this building process, and try to update once a week.  This can be valuable information for someone else planning such a project, and I know I’ve eagerly read all that I’ve discovered since beginning research on the project.  It will also keep you all updated as to all the fun and pain, frustration and successes involved in a project like this, which should be entertaining, if nothing else, if they are anything like past projects.

I hope some of you will find encouragement from the main message of this update.  Recently, while on vacation and camped in a remote area, we were visited by a couple from Massachusetts.  The man is recovering from cancer, and had come across my website.  They were vacationing in the general area, and took a day-long trip to track us down, as he said he just wanted to shake my hand, thank me for the encouragement he’d found on my journal pages, and to speak of my courage in fighting cancer.

This has happened to me before, and it makes me uncomfortable when people think of it in those terms.  I don’t feel that I am courageous at all.  I am a terrible scaredy-cat, and have been very frightened and fearful of all that I’ve been forced to face and deal with the past eight years or more.  Faced with constant and many choices and decisions, all of which are left to the patient to make decisions on, when you feel totally inadequate and unqualified to do so, however, I found that the choices were simplified for me, because I really felt I had no choice.  I was not, and am not, willing to let life go at this point.  And while I’m not courageous, I will fight for life tooth and nail, because there are too many things I want to do, too many places to visit, too many people to learn about and know, too much family to hold close to me.  I choose life.  That makes if easier – then you just have to decide which of the choices is the choice for life, and go from there.

 August 20, 2005
Marcie

On to the next Update, November 2005