Those who have been along for the ride know that our Warrior is fighting cancer, emphasis on fighting. It's been a year of poison, emotion, shitting, puking, being drained and holding on to hope with every last shred of energy. It's been a year of putting one foot in front of the other, of faking it, of loneliness, of friendship.
Well, that's how I see it. My point of view is ridiculously skewed. I don't have cancer. I'm not in chemo. I don't have a port. I don't live alone. I have all my hair. I'm not puking and shitting and feeling like I've been hit by a truck every day. I've never had cancer. I haven't had a double mastectomy. I've haven't endured medical test after test after test.
This is what I see but don't live. I have observations. I'm in the passenger seat. I have the luxury of being supportive...and, then going home without chemo, without poison in my body, without cancer.
It is a profound honor to be in the passenger seat. I say this with my entire being.
I sat with her during her treatment last week. If you've never seen a chemo pod, it's nothing spectacular. Thankfully, there are windows and bright lighting. It's pretty boring. There are IV poles peeking above the cubicles. There are boxes of chemo-rated gloves strewn about. There are bio-hazard bags in use. After all, this is poison.
Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. It's poison. It belongs in a bio-hazard bag.
This is killing yourself so you can live.
As I was sitting there, I lamented how I should have been taking photos as documentation along the way. I asked if I could take some photos to document this particular day. Because our Warrior is an open book, this request was met immediately with agreement. I took a few photos of the bags, the meds, the IV pole, the view... I decided they needed to be in black and white. The chemo pod doesn't deserve color. I'm not good at black and white but it doesn't matter. You get the idea. Perhaps not having the bio-hazard bag photos in color decreases the result, the emotion, the shock.But, black and white I left the photo, as I thought balck and white approach might convey the potential mood that tries to permeate the people in treatment....
...our Warrior does not succumb to the darker mood that hovers around. She is about survival,
of making lemonade,
of getting it over with,
of getting on with life.
Cancer has no grip on her.
Cancer cannot win with her.
She has cancer but cancer is not who she is.
Cancer has met its match.
As usual, she gives to me much more than I can give to her. I usually babble on and on while she politely listens. She's too polite to tell me to shut up. Instead, she helps me grow in my career by providing tidbits of information of which are invaluable. She shares little bits of herself. I can't thank her enough for how much she has helped me without even trying, by just being herself.
Great news is that the end of treatment is now visible in the rear view mirror. Treatment continues but at least it's not in front of the car. It's not exactly behind the car but you can see it appearing in the rear view mirror, soon to be left behind with a big adios. As of today, there are four more treatments.
Well, at least that is what they've estimated. Final determination rests in the hands of the oncologist. Four more times. Our Warrior is crawling toward the finish line.
Knowing her, she'll stand up and sprint to the finish line as it grows closer. She's no wimp.
That won't be the end of the story, of course. Doctor appointments will continue. The port will remain where it is. The hair will stay white. The scars will be visible when she looks in the mirror. But, the chemo will be in the rear view mirror and then will slowly fade from view.
I'm sure our Warrior is glad to see 2019 view slowly from view. I imagine it was not her favorite year during her tenure on the planet. She'll be looking out the windshield, enjoying the approaching view of 2020.
I too look toward 2020. I had amazing opportunities, tons of fun, many successes, nothing of which to complain in 2019. Yet, I'm ready for a new year.
I don't need a clean slate.
I don't make resolutions.
I don't see the change of a date as good or bad.
But, I do see the importance of a new year when you are a Warrior and with that in mind, I bid 2019 a fond farewell.
Fifty three weeks of poison pale vs. four more treatments. I know which one our Warrior has her focus.
Happy New Year...heck, Happy New Decade to you! May the new year bring you much chocolate, fun, love, joy and health....
....a double-dose of health. Happy New Year to you.
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