When my cancer saga began in February, on our first trip to Houston I told Gary and Madison that no matter what happened, no matter how serious the situation seemed to be, we were going to have FUN! That week, between appointments, we shopped at Rice Village, ate out at some wonderful restaurants, enjoyed Herrman Park, and planned our trips to the museums, the zoo, and an upcoming Cirque du Soleil performance in April. Then along came a little virus that upended all our plans.
There’s no way around it, it has been a long six months. Some days seemed like they were actually weeks long. Isolation has sucked a lot of the “fun” out of having cancer. But my family and friends have kept my spirits up and encouraged me to celebrate even the tiniest of victories. This hasn’t always been easy. Some days just call for a big ole’ pity party and I threw one Thursday evening. As Gary looked on wide-eyed, wondering where his wife had gone, I proceeded to whine and complain because I was finishing chemo and wouldn’t be able to celebrate with Allie and Josh, Noah, Casey and the grandchildren. I had 18 days “off” to rest before the appointments prior to surgery began and I thought it was extremely unfair that because of COVID I was unable to spend those 18 days with all my family and friends. I was stuck at home, with the doors and windows closed, with Argos. Gary’s promise of the best family beach vacation ever after my cancer treatment was done was not enough to bring me out of the pit I was digging for myself. Cancer brings with it a rollercoaster of emotions and I was speeding down the hill.
Friday morning I walked into M D Anderson Woodlands for the last time. I was greeted by the same sweet woman who has checked me in for every visit. I sat in my favorite chair by my favorite window looking at the woods and feeling the sun while I drank my coffee and waited to be called back for my infusion. I smiled (although with the mask who can tell) at the elderly woman in her fancy dress and cowboy boots that I see in the waiting room each week. After 20 long weeks and 16 infusions I am finally DONE with my neoadjuvant chemotherapy! No more red devil, no more Cytoxan, no more Abraxane. D.O.N.E. At the beginning of my treatment my oncologist and the nurse in charge of the clinical trial both told me not to get discouraged if one or two of my treatments were delayed because of low blood counts or infection. That was to be expected. Over the last 20 weeks my counts have stayed steady and I’ve been healthy and I did not miss a single scheduled treatment. Not a one. I’ve also been spared the debilitating side effects chemotherapy usually brings. Yes, I have been more tired than usual and lost my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, but for the most part I have been able to continue living life feeling ok. Staying as healthy as I have is truly a gift straight from the hand of God. It is an answered prayer and all the glory goes to Him.
Because this was the last treatment in “Phase One” of the plan to eradicate my cancer, Madison and I had planned a special dinner to celebrate. I was looking forward to the fresh baked chocolate chip cookies that would be waiting on me when I got home and our usual post-chemo movie night routine. When Gary drove around the last bend in our driveway I spied a flash of color in our front yard—a giant sign that said “Cancer Warrior” with flowers, balloons, pink ribbons, stars, a painter’s pallet and even a llama, filled our entire yard! Madison filmed the whole thing—I couldn’t stop crying. Even though we couldn’t be together to celebrate, my sweet friends Erin, Shea and Allison had planned this to greet me and let me know they were cheering me on.
Sometimes I forget that I have a choice and it is entirely up to me to decide whether to throw a pity party or a celebration. My circumstances did not change between Thursday night and Friday night. As Madison said, “we still have a million miles to go (uphill, in a tornado, walking over burning coals)” with surgery, immunotherapy, radiation and reconstruction. The next year is going to continue to be hard. But it is entirely up to me whether I want to spend that year whining and complaining about how unfair it is that I have cancer or if I want to live each day as the gift it truly is. I have been focusing entirely on the “night” and forgetting that it will pass and morning will come. I am going to do everything I can to remember that this season of cancer will pass, that this season of isolation will come to an end. So I will “rejoice in hope, endure in suffering, persist in prayer.” Romans 12:12 I will choose each day to focus on the joy in my life. I will remember the blessings I have been given and not the ones I am waiting on or wishing for. Today I will choose to be joyful, I will choose to be grateful. “Be joyful always, pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I will have a couple of weeks at home before we gear up for “Phase Two”—surgery. I am sure Argos will be excited not to see the suitcase come out every week! My plan is to rest up, fill my freezer with goodness, get a few projects done, and look for the joy each day.
T.S.CONLAY 