So, I met my new doctor today at M.D. Anderson in Houston. Talk about a know-it-all but that’s a compliment, believe it or not. Even so, I have no more answers today than I did yesterday. All I got today were new worries to add to the mix. You see, my current oncologist had already broken the news to me on Feb. 8 that he believed I relapsed after my last PET scan showed suspicious activity in the now shrunken tumors. He explained to me as I cried that I would undergo more intense chemotherapy and a stem cell transplant at M.D. Anderson for at least two months. My husband and I had gone in not totally optimistic to that appointment in an ill-fated attempt at protecting our hearts. That little ray of hope we’d been hanging on to broke our hearts all over again. We cried and moped and felt sorry for ourselves for a couple days.
But, we got it out of our systems and instead started asking what’s next on the agenda for cancer-fighting. Consequently, today as my new doctor at MDA explained the possible side effects of my upcoming treatment such as infertility, organ damage, and poor quality of life thereafter, I did not cry. I didn’t flinch and I didn’t tear up. I probably forgot to blink too. Why? Am I becoming jaded? The definition of jaded according to Google is this:
Tired, bored, or lacking enthusiasm, typically after having had too much of something.
Tired? Yes. Bored? Yup. Lacking enthusiasm? Double-yes (pun intended)! Have I had way too much of this something? A resounding YES! I think I might even be SUPER-jaded. Or is something else happening? As the doctor went on about my doomed eggs, all I remember thinking was, “Its ok. Don’t worry about that right now. Just do what you need to do.” Or could I have heard that? It kept popping into my head as my smarty-pants doctor counted off all the ways I was gonna get “jacked up” as a good friend of mine calls it. It seemed like I was shrugging these things off in a jaded manner because even my doctor asked me if I was really ok. I’m definitely scared as hell and I should have been quaking in my awesome studded boots but my composure today was inexplicable. Inexplicable in lowly human terms at least. I’m not Super-Jaded the superhero. I wish I were this super strong woman that everyone makes me out to be but, alas, I am not. I’m just this chick with cancer that asks Jesus to help her everyday. He totally whispered that in my ear today. Nothing more, nothing less. Only what I needed.
At this point, I’m all cried out and I’m jaded in the way that I just wanna get my fight on and get it over with. Doc didn’t give me any kind of assurance today but that’s just what I needed: some good, old-fashioned honesty. Give it to me straight. Don’t promise me the moon and then just show me your butt. This is a huge Goliath of a giant I’m facing and he’s not to be taken lightly. Yes, NOTHING is impossible for God but where’s the honor and glory for Him in defeating a midget? I wanna GRRR when I’m told by some that “ohh you’re gonna be juuuuuust fine, no worries!” like its the common cold. This is not something to be written off or taken lightly. Cancer is a formidable opponent that claims lives every day and a cancer survivor is a living, breathing testament to the healing power of God. I respect cancer but I’m still gonna murder it. It will happen in His time, not mine. Hey cancer: I have a tombstone with your name on it, not mine.