Can I just say that my husband is amazing? Well, he is. Completely.
Taking a walk somewhere every morning is something we've talked about doing for years. Stupid that cancer had to be the reason we finally got off our fat butts and started doing it, but I'm happy that we are.
Yesterday morning, he took me to Whiskey Island / Wendy Park. It was cold and sunny and beautiful and the sound of the water slooshing up on the shore is so comforting to me. We wandered over the the river, Ryan rambling the entire history of the park to me - there is nothing this man does not know. There were two red tugboats scooting down the Cuyahoga - man, those things are adorable! Something so quaint and old-timey about them, and yet they are SO STRONG. A little bit of inspiration to add to my pile.
I then went to work and worked what will be a "full day" for me until treatments are done: 9-2:45. It felt good to get back to doing something that just feels "normal"... or something that WAS normal BC (before cancer). Funny, yet again, how it took this for me to realize that I really LIKE doing my job and that the people I work with are truly wonderful people, so full of love - not the kind of co-workers one might have just anywhere.
After my first regular radiation appointment, I went to home to find in my mail a letter from a cemetery, suggesting I start planning for my "future". It was dated 2 days after my diagnosis. Ryan was livid and has written a strongly worded letter to Shithead Memorial Park in North Olmsted.
Shortly after that, I had my first breakdown/freak-out/cry/scream thing. (I should probably come up with a shorter name for these, as I imagine it will not be the last one.) I was lucky to have my mum there to intervene and attempt to put it in perspective and make sense of it. The support I have through this shit is pretty incredible. I don't want to say that I am lucky to have cancer, but cancer has definitely opened my eyeballs to how lucky I am in the family/friends department. I meant - I WON that lottery. Powerball AND Mega Millions all on the same day, for sure.
And speaking of support... after dinner, Ryan, mum and I all headed over to The Gathering Place to go through an "orientation" and see what their whole gig is about. A lot of it sounds really awesome, especially their services for the caregivers, but personally... I felt absolutely nothing there. Maybe I'll end up wanting to go to Tai Chi or yoga or get a massage or something, but I cannot picture myself in a support group setting. I fear that my sensitivity to other people's emotions would make this entire thing a thousand times worse for me, rather than better. They do one-on-one counselling as well, but again... I have not really even figured out what my questions, my worries, my fears, my ISSUES are with this whole thing yet. So what would I talk about?
Here is what I know: not beating this cancer is not an option. It's never even been on the menu, as far as I am concerned. There was never a moment, when the doctor came in to discuss my treatment options, that I was not 100% "IN" on doing everything they recommended we do. I will beat it. I will make the transition from cancer patient to cancer survivor. And I know that I can do that because of Ryan. And my parents. And my friends. And my family.
Love Love, Phoebe
everyone should be so lucky to know that kind of love.
I am glad we have reconnected; i really missed you a lot. I'll be having drinks with you when we're octogenarians. Though mine might be Ensure and not maker's mark :)
Second; that letter is very strange. Have you looked into where the facility GOT your information? Cemetaries don't seem like they'd be sending this kind of information to someone who is a hip, 36 year old bad ass hottie. Unless you've gotten drunk recently, and lost a date to sign up for some AARP subscription and discounts online. In which case; that's cool, too.
But seriously; There are HIPPA laws that protect your medical information and history from things like this. SO completely against the law......