...And so it goes.
You all are the ever-present family and friends who live inside my heart and inside my head. So it has been since 2002 when I discovered this little pocket universe of life and love in the awesome realm of the Red Dragon Inn and the Medeival Tavern, which then lead to other places and other fun times. Times so firmly entrenched in my psyche and in my poor swiss cheese memory that they have every bit as much reality to them as the memories and times of my 'real life" family and friends.
I have spilled to you people more of my dreams, hopes, fears, and other things than I have ever dared or been able to tell or had any desire to tell people in my 'real" life. OOC-wise there has been love, friendship, and hurt far more poignant than anything I have experienced in my real life. (I know how wacko that makes me, yes, thank you, lol).
So what am I driveling on about, hmm'
Well, just as there are beginnings there are also eventually endings. In this case, hopefully a long, slow ending rather than fast and quick, but one never knows, eh' I might even regret hoping for that at some point ahead. So here it is, in short(or too long, however it may seem to you, lol).
The breast cancer I thought I had beaten six years back apparently found some places to hide and sneak into where it began to recreate itself. After the last two months of multiple and frequent scans, five thoracentesis procedures, and three chest tube experiences, not to mention biopsies deep into my chest, multiple CT's and Ultrasounds, MRI's, and a PET scan(after which I was actually radioactive and had to sit in a room for hours), etc, the answers have come back.
I have advanced breast cancer, stage 4, or in other words, Metastisized Breast Cancer (MBC). It has established itself firmly into my left chest wall and pleural space(a thin set of membranes between chest wall and lung) which has been filling up around my left lung for several months now and repeatedly collapsing it. No wonder I had a hard time catching my breath, eh' Thus the many thoracentesis procedures which then let my lung open up again, making it easier to breathe, at least until the next time. It has spread to my right hip, which is apparently now a concern for fracturing. There are spots on my spine and sternum, various lymph nodes, etc. It's all over the damned place; it hid itself very well. Ninja Cancer, in fact.
Naturally, I have lost my nursing job due to immuno-suppression dangers. My sons and I are moving in with my mother. Together they will help me cope with various daily challenges, like eating and throwing up, heh. I will be on various treatments via hormones, chemo, radiation, and anything else they can think to throw at me as long as some sign of positive effect is evident. The doctors tell me I have "a year, possibly 2, 3, or even 5 or ten years, we just won't know until we see the reactions to the various treatments". Apparently MBC is a process of moving from one treatment option to another, until you have blown through them all, and then you just fade away, getting weaker and more frail, until the body can no longer support life.
MBC is "incurable". However, I believe the universe and my God are far more expansive and full of inexplicable mysteries than the doctors and their pronouncements.
I will be here just as long as I am supposed to be, and that length of time is not going to be dictated by founts of knowledge hemmed in by the covers of a book or any old lab tests.
I am not giving in, and I am not giving up, so don't you guys quit on me, either, okay"
As far as I am concerned, I just got the go ahead to spend guilt-free time writing, playing, and creating with all you lovely souls. While I sail on towards what Dylan Thomas called "that good night", let's create some more memories and good times to think back on.
Don't cry for me. Or cry if you must, but write with me.
For the now, play with me, enjoy me, and let me enjoy you, until it is time for my swan song.
I thank you for your love, your friendship, the support you have all been so generous with, and for the invaluable chance to make something with you that will be remembered, at least for a little while.
As ever,
Love to you all.
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.?
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953
