Feelin’ Funky
I kinda spent the weekend moping. Not off-by-myself, staring-at-the-TV, gorging-on-chips moping, but quiet reading, contemplation, unusual lack of exercise. I even vacuumed.
I don’t want to say that the results of the scan have gotten me depressed, but they threw me for a little loop, more than I would have expected. I guess I’ve been feeling so fine on the Avastin that I started to get a little cocky, and as anyone can tell you, that’s a sure sign of a fall waiting to happen. It’s not as if I’d stopped worrying about it (“Just say it, wimp, ‘the cancer'”), MY cancer, but it had receded to a place where I was actually thinking about learning about a new job, going on a kayaking adventure trip and feeling strong, planning summer trips and activities and not worrying about exhaustion or side effects.
Now, it’s not as if I’m going to keel over next week. The tumors are in the one- to three-millimeter range, and won’t impact my lung function for another six months or so even if we do nothing about them. And I still have lots of options for treating them. But as I was making pizza dough on Saturday, it hit me: some clinical-trial med they put me on might have hideous side effects. This might be the best I feel for a while. And before I could stop myself I took a little march down memory lane: summer 2006, unable to climb stairs without a break; nannies; supporters delivering meals. Mom trekking up here ten out of every 20 days to help run my household. Bald, rotund, shredded.
I feel like Mike Myers on SNL when he played that little hyperactive boy Phillip tied with a leash to the jungle gym: no matter how I try to get away from the damn cancer, eat right and exercise my feet off and do yoga and live in the moment and play with my kids and take tennis lessons and plan kayaking trips and chairing committees and all of it, I’m still tied to this effing jungle gym.
At least I look better than Nicole Kidman’s duck-lips.
I'm a two-and-a-half time ovarian cancer survivor who is not only determined to make it to sixty but also to look damn good while getting there. My two boys, husband, and dog are counting on me to get out of bed every day, so I might as well wear something cute and make each one COUNT. I'd love to hear from you about your odyssey - sharing makes it all easier to take. And laugh at.
The Carcinista 
Boston Mamas said,
February 22, 2010 at 5:25 PM
This made me cry. Your strength is so admirable Sarah. But you can mope and feel crappy in my corner any day. xoxo
Denise said,
February 22, 2010 at 5:30 PM
This cancer thing is a big, fat not-at-all fun roller coaster. Just when we fool ourselves into thinking we can deal with it all; another blow it dealt! The good news is that somehow, someway your human reseilency will kick in. Somehow, someway you will find optomism again.
I know, because I’ve been there. I’m on that roller coaster now; waiting for biopsy results.
I wish you strength in dealing with this new setback and a quick trip back to the place where cancer is not dominating your thoughts!!!!!
Bemberley said,
February 22, 2010 at 8:20 PM
Will it take your mind off of your jungle gym if I gripe some more about my jungle gym (aka ‘the injury plague’)? Where did we leave off…..
It’s probably best if we continue the saga in the dog park, but somehow (I’m flabbergasted by this) KK qualied for a champ meet which will chew up this week. Let’s check on the weather next week. My lungs are actually doing pretty well and poor Mudd could really use a Gryphon fix.
‘Til then, keep your chin up. To keep yourself amused read this: http://deadspin.com/5477230/nyu-business-school-professor-has-mastered-the-art-of-email-flaming
patricia said,
February 22, 2010 at 8:37 PM
In all of this, your strength and hope bring courage to us all. Thank you for making me laugh…as you always do. I have you in my thoughts and prayers. xxx’s ~patricia
cindy said,
February 22, 2010 at 10:35 PM
Hi.
First off, indulge me with stating (or screaming) the obvious…CANCER SUCKS!!
I have been a ‘lurker’ on your blog for about 6 weeks….you really are a wonderful and whole person, despite that “C” bastard’s attempts at mucking things up. I am new to ‘survivorship’…about 8 weeks ago i lost my ‘innocence’…that is the ‘innocence’ experienced by those who have never been diagnosed with ‘C’…i am sure you can easily get your head around what i mean…which is the innocence of never having had to wonder if you will live long enough to help your daughter pick a wedding dress…to watch your toddler grow into a man…or even attend grade school for that matter…to grow old with your spouse…etc. etc. it would seem that i have been ‘lucky’ in terms of the ‘C’ world…i am currently recovering from my 2nd abdominal/staging surgery (for a rare, but low grade ovarian tumor) over a 4 week period…i am stage I so, not sure if adjuvant chemo is in the cards for me yet…should know in a few weeks…i have been immensely inspired by your writings…and touched by your strength and candor…i understand…you are not alone…you have every right to go from elated to deflated and back again…it is healthy to feel it all and feel nothing sometimes…hope is the most wondrous of things…i am hopefull that we are on the brink of really starting to make serious headway with new treatments,especially with regards to gene therapy in terms of permanently arresting tumors…you keep fighting the ‘good fight’, gal, as i am sure you are and will. Thank you for sharing in blog land…warmest thoughts flowing your way, Cindy
Catherine Jacobs said,
February 22, 2010 at 11:38 PM
That post was awesome – the tied to the jungle gym reference was perfect. PS – I’m bummed about the news as well. Call you soon.
mom said,
February 23, 2010 at 10:09 AM
The breadth and depth of the human spirit — yours especially — never fails to amaze me.
Dee said,
February 23, 2010 at 11:11 AM
I’ve been reading your blog off and on for a few weeks now.
Your reference to the jungle gym is right on. Even in remission we are still tied to this disease.
Your teal sister,]
Dee