This moment

     I have seen the end and it isn't pretty. I have witnessed the sequelae of ovarian cancer through the women who have gone before me. I watch and listen as their cancer recurs, from the first little sign until the end. From the first elevated CA125 result, through bowel obstructions, through the feeding tubes, the pain medication pumps, the pleurisy, the lymph edema, the cachexia, the hospice care admissions, the delirium, then one day it's finally over. It's not much to look forward to. It would be nicer to be run over by that truck everyone is always telling me about. You know the truck, as in "we could all be hit by a truck at any moment". That would certainly be a lot less trouble than the slow demise that seems to be the usual experience. Today, I learned of yet another ovarian cancer sister, Pateeta , who has been admitted to hospice care. Today, I went to support group and the sickest  woman in the room is another OC sister. Today, these woman and their experiences weigh heavily on my mind. They motivate me to truly live while I can, to not waste a single day or a single moment.
     Today, I will live the best life I can. I will eat good foods to nourish my body. I will walk in the park and hold my face to the sun. I will breath deeply and fill my lungs with fresh air. I will be present in my body, feeling the muscles in my legs as they carry me where I want to go. I will own my strength and be grateful for it. I will expand my mind with reading. I will exercise my creativity. I will share my view of the world. I will hope for comfort for my friends and family and myself. I will connect. That's the best life I can imagine.

    "I got this moment that I'm in right now and nothin else at all."
~ Todd Snider

Searching.............

   I'm floundering. I'm not sure I know how to live the rest of my life. I have been through the "mother-of-all-surgeries" and learned that my body is resilient and can heal. I have been through chemotherapy and learned that I have strength. I have been through the weekly blood draws, the neutropenia, the thrombocytopenia, the blood transfusions, the nausea, the vomiting (only once), the aching bones, the sleepless nights, the relentless hot flashes, the loss of ALL my hair (everything except eyelashes) and I have persevered.  I have changed the way I eat in order to more fully nourish my stressed body. I have learned how to care for Oscar, my ostomy. Believe me, when you get to empty Oscar's little collection pouch 6 times a day, you get to witness first hand the results of your food choices. (Choose wisely, my friend.) I have pampered my body, focusing on it's every need for 6 months now. And we have acheived  some degree of stasis and established a new status quo, a new "normal". But I think I have forgotten how to live.

     Cancer is a word that brings one thought to mind, death. My cancer diagnosis did that to me. I learned about estate planning, advanced directives, durable powers-of-attorney, wills, all that stuff. I told my financial advisor that I needed to cash out all my savings. (She talked me out of it.) I thought of all the things I hoped to do in my retirement years and paniced when I realized that my time would expire before I was done. I am not afraid to die  and I was preparing to do just that. I was focusing on my death.

     Fast forward 6 months to today. While I recognize that ovarian cancer will eventually kill me, it won't kill me today. And probably not even tomorrow or next week or next month. I have time. I am not sure what to do with that time. My doctor told me today "Do not forget to live." What if I have already forgotten? How do I remember? I don't know yet. I don't even know what to do this afternoon. I can't even think of a pithy title for this entry.