Glass Grizzly Cancer Blog: December 2011

Welcome!

My last short fiction instructor told us not to write about cancer. "It's been done," she said. Well, the hell with that. I learned in the last three weeks that I have stage III breast cancer. Writing, painting, and assorted other arts are how I process stuff, in addition, of course, to long conversations with friends. These conversations have begun in earnest these recent days, but I realized my Facebook page in particular was in danger of becoming a medical-update site. I do not want that. My life is still going to be about more than cancer, as much as that may not seem possible right now. Also, I don't want to alienate friends who are not ready to walk this particular valley with me at this time. For example, one elderly friend who called to cheer me up this week can't even handle the "c-word," and there is no way she will be up for any truly frank discussion of what's about to happen here. So she is advised to keep in touch with me via Facebook. People who are comfortable with the c-word, honest discussion and occasional cursing are welcome to join me here.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy New Year!

We made it back from our trip to Washington state and Oregon to spend Christmas with friends and family. My robo-boob did not set off any TSA alarms, probably because I had all my documentation ready in hand to prove that even though I now contain some unexpected metal parts, I am still harmless. That said, the TSA totally missed the fact that I had a good-sized knife in my purse for my first two flights, which I had forgotten about. Alert TSA agends did find and confiscate a small bottle of bubbles that Matthew had unwittingly left in his backpack.

The year 2011 was the one where, in my OBGYN’s words, we will look back on it together, in twenty years, and have a drink and laugh about how much that year sucked. And although getting cancer does suck, and having chemotherapy really sucks, there were some silver linings, too. I found out I really do have wonderful friends and family who went miles out of their way to take care of me this year. I have a husband who loves me and was not scared off by hospitals or bodily disfigurement or baldness. I have seen the amazing effects of modern science and the amazing effects of prayer.

God did not quite appear to me in a vision this year. There was one really cool hallucination, back during chemo, when I spoke with Jesus, in the form a middle-aged guy from West Africa. He was not making wine, but rather some very fine Scotch whiskey. I digress. However, God did sort of send me a message, to the effect of: “You can be pretty sure that I exist and that in the end, Love Wins, because I have put so many loving people around you.”

My prayers are going out for those friends who are still fighting illness, bereavement and other forms of heartbreak. I’ll be holding you in the Light in 2012.

Resolutions? There are a few. Some of them are of a private nature. A new one on the list, this year, is, “Don’t die.” I do intend to do a ropes course at the Adventure Park this spring. I also intend to waste less time in the future—this, I believe, is a common one among cancer survivors. “Someday” is now.

I hope you have some good resolutions of your own, and that you make them come true in 2012. God bless you.

My glass is half full!