Cured

Dear Doctors, staff, nurses and admin folk:

I came into this shitstorm journey already with a half empty heart.

I had only recently ceased believing in any deity, kharma, or “stuff happens for a reason”. I believe in time and the law of averages, cause and effect, bad timing and sometimes, just dumb luck. I “came out” finally, after years of struggling, as an atheist, just months before my diagnosis. Well played, universe, well played.

So when 37 years of self-destructive behavior: cigarette smoking, partying hard through the 70’s and most of the 80’s finally caught up with me at age 51, I was not the least bit surprised.

It’s been a terrifying, humiliating, diabolical treatment, but, my fear was never about the possibility of dying, my fear was about the possibility of dying and having only lived a half-life; nothing to show for my years, no great passion or accomplishment, only a life limping along like a three legged dog.

But you all treated me with great dignity and humanity even though I felt as if you were all trying to turn me into a cyborg.

I also don’t believe that “what doesn’t break you makes you stronger”. Sometimes what doesn’t break you leaves you a sobbing mess. But I never heard platitudes from you, only honesty and compassion. The single time I wasn’t told the “whole” truth – and health care professionals would never suggest this – I never heard: “You can choose not to be treated.” ‘Cause personally my decision to get care was based on one solitary truth. I had a window of time to start treatment and after that window closed, I would have no choice. So I rolled the dice. And you cured me.

Thank you all for your professionalism, understanding and patience. If I was ever non-compliant-- it was because of the pre-existing and then compounded by the disease-- depression, getting in the way, and not that I dis-believed any care instructions or suggestions. Some days it was just easier to throw back the Vicodin and curl up in a ball.

But you cured me. I hope that I can move forward and amid the grandeur and stupidity of our world, I hope I can find happy. Because every single one of you said it’s out there.

*%$#@!+}! Optimists.

What every oncologist needs to tell their patients up front.

So, if you still pop in now and again, I am alive and kicking and finishing up the last cancer treatment next week. I have hair. Head hair and mustache hair. I'm almost back to work full time. If ya had to throw a dart at the dartboard of breast cancers, this is the one ya want. Because it's fucking curable. Which isn't to say the cure was a clambake, and the residual effects just suck, but here I am and glad to be talkin' to ya'll again.

Now, since I'll see my oncologist next week, I have prepared a few thoughts on what she should say to all of her new patients.

But first a definition:
From the Urban Dictionary: WEIRD SHIT
"Beyond just a strange situation. This is where you scratch your head and get the fuck out of there. Weird shit is something that occurs that can't be fully understood why and how it happened. It should be left alone in most cases.
You do NOT want to be around weird shit when it happens. If you want to take a look at some weird shit, then do it from a large distance away from the weird shit."

And this great quote from my BFF Mary Robin: "'I'm so sorry.' When your new doctor introduces himself, then sits down next to you and holds your hands, you know you are screwed in way that will prove awesomely legendary."

And then comes the diagnosis. And your head spins around on its stem. And then the MD should say: "SHOULD YOU WISH TO SEEK TREATMENT, we have a really good program here". The WISH TO SEEK part I think is really essential. Because, without it, you really aren't really giving total informed consent to any procedure or treatment. You'll be essentially doing what you're told, and take the surreal assembly line trip through the different stages of treatment.

"So look, I don't want to freak you out, but it's about to get weird in here. I can't say exactly when it's gonna get weird. But trust me, it's gonna get weird. And not just Leonard Nimoy singing about Hobbits weird,(although depends on your meds...), but like, 'Hey, check out these body parts falling off type of weird'."

"And I can't tell you when this weird shit will end, but it will."

But after that, there's no goin' back. Don't listen to that bs people feed you about the "new normal" this shit ain't normal. Reality is different -- there will be weird shit spikes, but for the most part it'll be normal weird. Human weird. Your everyday kinda weird, once in a while, as usual.

So there's that. Good luck.