Tuesday, May 23, 2006

I rant, therefore I am

Okay, truth?
The truth is I went to two separate doctors this week and told them both, "I'm not doing this Interferon anymore." The side effects have gotten worse, and it's starting to cause depression, and I just thought to myself, It's not even worth this. I've got two months left, and they'll let me off of this so I can go back to work and have a normal life again.
With Dr. Daya, the results were significantly better than with my new oncologist at Parkland, but let's face it- neither let me off the hook. I did get better meds, though, so I guess I can't complain.
I knew going into this situation that I'd probably get the whole, This-is-a-serious-disease speech, which I did (twice). And, you know, nobody wants to hear that, even when it's the truth. Nobody wants to hear that if or when this cancer comes back, that it will have attacked the organs in a matter of 3 months and life will essentially be over. You hear that, and you just think, What are you talking about? I'm 30. There's no way I'll be dead in 5 years. I mean, my parrot won't even be dead in 5 years, and he lives on crackers and water.
And then the whole thing starts all over again, with me thinking how this isn't worth it if I'm only going to be alive 5 more years, how the last 10 years have just flown by, and how stupid this stupid disease is. It's not like liver cancer, where you get it just because it's in your genetics somewhere and there's not really anything you can do about it. This disease is, many times, preventable, and more people get diagnosed with it than any other cancer in America. How much sense does that make? Then I just get mad, just get overwhelmed thinking about the fact that in the 1930s, the chance for a person living in the U.S. to develop melanoma was 1 in 1,500 and now it's 1 in 74. How does this happen? I bet Al Gore could tell me. Still, it seems to make no sense.
What I wish for is one of those American Beauty moments, when the beauty of the world just fills me up and blah blah blah blah blah, but the reality is, I haven't had one of those moments in a while. What I've been thinking lately is about the 60% chance that within the next few years, I'll be going through all this shit all over again, and it makes me sick to think of it. I'm down, chemo sucks, and even though I'm taking measures to make all of this better, it's still so overwhelming sometimes. I'm sure you can imagine. And even though it sucks, (have I mentioned how bad this sucks?), I know that things could be so much worse, and I guess I'm just happy for this moment right now.
I'm taking the chemo again like a champ, I'm dealing with what I can, and I'm doing my best to just believe I'm the exception to the statistic. And if all of that works out, I know I'll be just fine.



Anonymous said...

Hey Lori,
Sorry to hear about the bad mood. I hope it passes soon. Ok here is my worst joke..."What did George Washington say to his men before they got in the boat."//////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// "Get in the boat!" Thank you for your email about my dad, you're a sweetheart. Hang in there girl, I'm rooting for you.

Anonymous said...

You are one of my heroes!!!! I love you so much. Talk to ya' soon.


I'm Too Young For This!