Sunday, May 6, 2018

When I heard that I had a third cancer, I had a hard time talking. 

I wasn't weeping or anything. I just couldn't completely speak. 

And the funnier part was when I'd hear someone in my universe complain about something random like that they had to wait extra time for their unicorn's golden horn to be reinstalled(or like maybe a new bathtub that they had to stay home for an entire day! Perish the thought!), I'd be like, wha-haaaaaaat? Because generally speaking, people in my universe have it okay. As far as I can tell. 

You never really know tho, do ya? 

Sometime before that news, I had taken the day off for what-I think-they call 'Women's Day' at my gym. They have speakers and presentations and things and I never got to go because I work Saturdays and because Dave from Improv was going to be presenting-only they call him 'Doctor' there at Loyola-I thought it'd be cool to go see him. He's very funny and funny is good. 

Another one of the presenters-and I remember the room was freezing and I almost didn't stay-was a therapist who specialized in issues of eating AND weirdly enough she had done her fellowship-I think-in the Cancer Department so she had two things going on that I needed assistance with, so I asked my delightful Primary Care if he thought it'd be okay if I went to see her and he agreed immediately which was supercoolio in my book. 

It was hard to get in to see her and I had to wait because that is the way life goes and I was cool with it because I knew it was on the horizon and I did start speaking okay again after awhile. 

So now, if you're me, every three months you have this new ritual where you go and do a blood test and then follow up with your specialist. I have two doctors that I have to/get to see-every three months. Instead of freaking out, I lifted some advice from a formerly cancered friend who said that she looks forward (I know!) to these visits, because in case something goes wrong-they can catch it right away. That is some high-level thinking right there, no?

Well, at my last visit, I asked what was going to happen as a result of the third cancer and the doctor told me that my life would be shorter. 

Hmm. Thought me. And off I went.

But, because of my work with my therapist-and the reason I am sharing this is because it was so amazingly helpful-she told me how to ask the hard questions in a language I'm really unfamiliar with. Doctor talk. 

So here-and this is SO especially wonderful because this is written with Kelly's pen and Gail's notebook that they both individually shared with me and one of them said, I wish I could be there with you for this appointment and I was like oh believe me, you TOTALLY are. Not to worry. ha ha ha. But anyway, these were questions that I asked the doctor and it seemed to be like a language he was comfortable with and we had the coolest appointment ever in terms of communication. It does not hurt that he was voted one of those Chicago Magazine top pick doctors that a ton of other doctors would send their own people to AND it didn't hurt that in the past 6 months I've unloaded 22 pounds. 


The good news is-as far as I know today-I'm not exiting the planet any time soon and the other good news is that this week, we go into production with the purpose of curing cancer. 

The bad news is, there isn't any. 

Imagine that. 

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