Delicious Ambiguity

View out of a medical office window.

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.

Delicious Ambiguity.
-Gilda Radner

I met with my cardiologist earlier this week, and he is referring me to another cardio on his team that specializes in heart valve replacement. My aortic stenosis has progressed and my symptoms have worsened. My energy level is nonexistent and I become winded very easily..
My aortic valve will need. to be replaced before I go any further with my cancer treatment. Otherwise, there is a high risk for another heart attack and/or stroke.

We had a long discussion about my condition. We joked about how his diagnosis of “shit magnet” is still a current diagnosis and seems to be in the serious stage at this point. (How’s that for an ice breaker?) I have a real fondness and a boatload of respect for this kind and wise man that excels at his profession. We have a very long history together. When you face your own death, you tend to remember those that stood by your side during that time. He is an ally and a friend as well as my cardiologist, and has wiped tears from my face just as gently as he has wiped betadine solution from my chest.

I still recall my very first visit with him, when we were both much younger and our hair less gray. His phone vibrated in his lab jacket and he apologized for having to take what was a very important call. After stepping back into the room he explained that the call was from his young son that was so very excited because he had won his first soccer game.

I knew immediately that I would stick with him, and over all of the years I have been under his care, he has yet to steer me wrong. He' has literally saved my life on at least two different occasions. So I agreed with his treatment plan, assuring him I will do what needs to be done. I trust him explicitly.

After returning home and picking Mojo up from his dog-sitter, I realized my anxiety was off the charts and affecting me physically. Dissociative disorder is a bit difficult to explain, but it is always a task to stay ‘present’ during these long and often frightening discussions with my doctors. Certain words, certain feelings are all triggers. For myself, just being in a medical office is a trigger. I hear their words, I ask them questions, we discuss the pros/cons of treatments, but a part of myself isn’t fully present.. Feelings go numb and are tucked away.. A lifetime of trauma has re-wired my brain. It’s a shield of sorts, and a completely unconscious response to fear. But once I am in what feels like a ‘safe space’ , all of the feelings I have blocked out come flooding in and it can be paralyzing. and overwhelming. Racing thoughts and the feeling of wanting to run and hide. Impending doom and sheer panic.

To ground myself I went out and let Mojo race around the woods for a bit and focused on my breathing. I paid attention to the birds hovering around the feeders. I brought myself into the present, and in that present moment I was ok. I then came in and started to journal. Journaling is my go-to tool. I can write out the words that I find difficult to speak. I checked my Goodreads account on the internet, and someone I follow had shared a quote by Gilda Radner that seemed to be meant for me. It felt and still feels that way.

Delicious Ambiguity. I held on to those words like a life raft.

With each diagnosis I receive, I process much grief afterwards. It isn’t the same grief as loosing a loved one, but it is grief none the less. Grief over the loss of my health and that encompasses so many things. I’m not sure what stage of grief I am in, since I’ve received so many crushing diagnoses over the past two years alone, I only know I’m in it.

I see posts from so many that are stressing about the holidays, caught up in the consumerism that has always left a bad taste in my mouth. For far too many years buying gifts or cooking the perfect meal has been the very least of my worries. All I want for Christmas is a break from all of this. The constant appointments and procedures. The stress. The dwindling finances. The worry I see on my husbands face. The sadness in my sweet and sensitive dogs’ eyes when I have to leave him with a pet sitter yet again.

I still have a large benign tumor in my neck that has to be removed after I deal with the breast cancer and a probable cancer in my right lung that hasn't been addressed yet. My plate is a bit too full, but I will continue to embrace the unknown in the best way I know how on any given day. For when it is all said and done, that is what any of us can do.

Peace.

*I have a GoFundMe account to help us afford transportation for so very many medical appointments and a mountain of medical bills. Any and all donations are appreciated as well as your good thoughts. My heartfelt gratitude to those who have made this a bit less difficult.
GoFundMe For Cancer Treatment