I definitely look weather-beaten…oh hell, let’s not mince words…I look like shit. To top it off, I can’t feel my hands or feet from the neuropathy and there’s a distinct metallic taste in my mouth. When they unplugged me from the last drip my husband gave me a celebratory kiss and said, “That’s as close as I’ve ever been to heavy metal.” What a guy! I might have spurned the lip-lock myself, but he gets extra points for the snog.
Recently The New York Times ran an article entitled “What Does Cancer Smell Like?” (Subtitle: Tracking The Old Jock Strap In You.) Supposedly research is being done to find out if dogs can detect the disease. It all started back in 1989, when a woman went to see her doctor about a mole. She had no clue it was there until her Collie-Doberman mix became aggressive, trying to bite it off through her pants. (Cancer screening…another reason to buy a violent dog!) The mole turned out to be melanoma, so now they’re calling in the hounds for research. So far Dr. Petri’s canine study is inconclusive, but no matter…I’m on high alert this holiday. You can jolly well believe I’m keeping a close eye out for large slobbering mutts who want to make mincemeat of my pelvis.
I’ve always had an uncanny ability to identify odors. If given the opportunity to dive nose first into my tumor ridden uterus way back in August when it was removed, I could easily have pegged the bouquet of that grisly organ. For all I know my overtaxed womb reeked of granny panties doused in Shalimar…or maybe a downwind Greeley Colorado cow pie. Regardless…there’s no need to pull out those formaldehyde tissue samples for a Pitbull’s second opinion!
As the holidays draw near, I am reminded of many fond memories and blessings. One of my favorite childhood moments took place in Seattle. My mother would sit at the typewriter in my dad’s office as I jumped into his leather chair to tell her stories. I remember we did this on rainy days…and there were many. My imagination ran wild…it was like recess for the brain. I can still hear her fingers on the keys and the buzzing sound of the carriage return as it set up for a new line. The possibilities were endless…where did the characters go?…Whom did they encounter?…and then, depending on my mood, how did they meet their demise? Sometimes they died in quicksand (what happened to quicksand? Did we pave over it?) Maybe eaten by a crocodile?…and sometimes they lived happily ever after. My mom filled a notebook, but unfortunately no one can find it. I do recall one story about not wanting to be a raindrop for fear I’d be like everyone else.
My perspective on motherhood has broadened since being diagnosed with cancer. I know it sounds strange, but this illness reminds me of being pregnant. There are the obvious similarities… watching your diet, feeling sick to your stomach, and the need for more rest. But there is a mental side as well. Small grievances that once got in the way no longer matter. Things that used to send me over the edge don’t even hit my radar. Instead I’m working on letting go of past hurt, and finding forgiveness. The important thing is to live a healthy life (but still have fun), love my family and friends, and pay forward all the incredible support I’ve received.
Of course cancer and pregnancy bring totally different outcomes. One involves birth, and the other rebirth. Either way you are changed forever. The two situations can show you the highest highs and the lowest lows. Each bears a gift, but you may have to search a little harder for the favor from cancer. Both require a tremendous amount of patience, trust, and a sense of humor. Still…A child changes your life forever, whereas cancer only changes the course of your life. One friend likes to remind me that cancer is a temporary condition. Every day will be different. It won’t last forever…just like raising kids. One minute you are submerged in it…and the next, you’re buoyed by newfound wisdom.
Oh my, I’m getting heavy. I’ll stop now and wish you all a healthy happy holiday season and a bright and prosperous New Year. That’s right…Christmas is coming! No stopping the heavy metal hickies under the mistletoe or the dollar store ornaments on display! Sure I’ll be up to my underarm chemo port in a turkey carcass, but at least I won’t smell like Shalimar and fresh cow pies!