July 16th: Just the facts, Ma'am...

When I told one of my friends that I was diagnosed with lymphoma, she asked, "And what does that mean for you?"  I told her I didn't know…that it felt like a new "housemate" had moved in, and I didn't know anything about them - at all.  Her reply: "Well, Deborah, you've been sleeping with them a long time, so it might be good to find out their name."   I thought I was going to split a gut laughing - it was PERFECT!  Yes, I needed to know more….and did find out its name: marginal cell lymphoma.

I have a friend whom I love, and who is one of the best at ferreting out information.  I hadn't seen her in many months, but when she serendipitously crossed my path, I asked her if she would keep her eyes open for information about my new "roommate."  She sent me a slide show she found that was geared toward medical professionals, but was helpful to me.  It may be helpful for you, too.  Here's a website: http://www.presentme.com/audio2012/20121110LRFUjjani/. 

It turns out that there are over 20-some kinds of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.  Some of them are rather nasty and aggressive.  In turn, they are treated very aggressively.  However, when the treatment is done, there is usually a cure.  Others, like my own, are very slow growing - sometimes disappearing on their own, other times growing more quickly.  For these slower-growing lymphomas, there is no "cure."  

Many times, treatment is not even recommended until the tumors cause difficulties and/or or interfere with other vital organs.  If treatment is recommended, it's possible that a very specific chemo treatment - one geared specifically for the "genetics" on the tumor cells - might be instituted.  And while the chemo might put the cancer into remission, there is no cure for these slow growing lymphomas - even though they will sometimes spontaneously disappear on their own.  

Cause for Celebration #1:  It turns out that my largest tumor is 1.9 cm - which is about .748031 inches (according to a converter on Google - you think I'd do the math myself???).  This is pretty small - I believe the term my health professional used was "unremarkable." (pic is not "to scale, but you can see that 1.9 cm is about the size of a cardinal's beak; it was obtained at http://csip.cornell.edu/Curriculum_Resources/CSIP/Ardia/first_correction.GIF)


Cause for Celebration #2:  It turns out that there are three layers to my B-lymphocytes, and marginal cell lymphoma affects the outermost layer of the cell, rather than the innermost layer, or core.  This is a good thing. (pic from http://o.quizlet.comi/2X1H--tju3WKY1VjQY-5QA_m.jpg)

Cause for Celebration #3:  All of the blood tests that have been run so far are showing that everything else is looking good: kidneys, liver, lungs, red blood cells - all good.  With the exception of those wonky B-lymphocytes, I'm batting a thousand.  
(pic from http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0225/4515/products/ar20-softball-48-rq_1_large.jpeg?v=1389733596)


Cause for Celebration #4:  No treatment is recommended at this time.  To use their words, we are  "watchfully waiting."  This means that I will be showing up for blood tests every three months.  Would I rather be getting a massage instead?  Hell yes.  This leads me to - 


Celebration #5:  I am listening - with the volume in my small ears turned on high.  I am doing my best to listen for guidance and act on what I am being led to do.  I am not waiting every three months for a massage, but am getting at least two a month, and sometimes more.  I am exercising more, because it pleases my body, and hence pleases me.  I am eating well.  I am saying "no" more often.  I am crying more - sometimes from fear, and sometimes from the sheer beauty of it all, but I am crying - and it feels good.
In short, I am showing up for myself in ways that I don't think I would have, 
had it not been for the cancer.  


Which leads me to Celebration #6 - and one of my most favorite things, in which I usually always find the Divine:  a Paradox...  

In some weird way, 

this cancer may end up 

saving my life.  

(art: "Bittersweet" by Brian Andreas - obtained at http://www.lifesabirch.com/SPBittersweet.jpg)

July 14th: OK! I'm Listening! Geez!

Well.  Hmmm.  Blog #1.  What to say.  Starting out with "I have cancer" seems a little melodramatic - especially coming from the perception that I've had of myself and my health thus far in my life.  I'm the oldest of six - and I have the least gray hair of all of us.  Although I'm probably not as fit as my brother with the "mini-gym" in his spare bedroom, I have been known to portage a 16 foot canoe by myself over rough terrain {ok, I had a little bit of help getting it onto my shoulders, but after it was there, I carried it}.  A couple of years ago, I spent four weeks camping - didn't sleep indoors once. A part of that trip was a week in the wilderness with a group of "Wild Canadian Women" who were old enough to be my mom, and then a week of backpacking with a friend and her daughter on one of the roughest trails I've ever been on.  It kicked our asses, but I walked over my age in miles that week.  Although I will be 59 in just ten more days, you can get the "picture" that I'm no sloucher.  So, when I feel the words "I have cancer" about ready to come out of my mouth - or, in this case, my keyboard - I also think of one of my favorite comediennes, Tig Nataro: No Moleste.  Nope.  Not tonight.  Try a couple doors down. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwqPeVkiDR4)  All to no avail, however.

Sitting in a doctor's office, getting the news, was an instant game changer.  The static went away.  Time began to take on a new meaning, as in "there's not enough of it to do what I want, and too much of it spent doing things that I don't want."  I was at a metaphorical railroad crossing: Stop. Look. Listen. 

I don't know how you feel about God, but I know that I've had a personal relationship with the Divine since I was little.  It was very clear to me that God didn't live in the church building.  I'm not a big fan of any religion, organized or otherwise.  I was somewhat of a "church whore" (thanks to Lee Greenler's Grandmother for this term) for many years after I left my Catholic-rooted home, hopping churches to be with the congregation and/or pastor that fit most easily with this "connection to God" that I felt.  Presently I most align with the Society of Friends.  If there were a Quaker monthly meeting in my town, I would apply for membership.  All of that is really beside the point, except for this: Quakers believe that there is that of God in everyone, and that each of us can have a very up-close-and-personal relationship with the Divine.  In addition, they believe that if we sit in silence, and wait, God will "lead" us, and Spirit's voice can speak through us.  HOW GREAT IS THAT!?!?!?!   I've been hearing God's voice my whole life, so you can imagine how at home I felt among a group of people who didn't think I was crazy, because God talked to them, too.  So, referring back to the previous paragraph for a moment, a metaphorical Quaker Crossing sign might read "Stop.  Wait.  Listen."

So now - with that little piece of context, you may understand me better when I say this:  God is taking a metaphorical 2 x 4 with the word "lymphoma" on its side, and whacking me upside of the head with it.  I didn't hear the more polite "Yooooooo-hoooooooo….. Deeeboraaaaaaaaahhhhhh…."  Dang.  Thanks, Dad, for the "hard-head" gene - a good thing to have in many cases, but not so good in this one.  But I think I'm getting it now.