Monday, February 15, 2016

Waiting.

The story of my life for the past three months. 

It's hard to believe that I sit here still waiting for answers. It's inconceivable to me that I'm waiting for my seventh doctor to come back to me with results. 

I have been poked, prodded, cut open, stuck with needles and I've practically had my body weight in blood drawn. 

Still, I wait. 

I have ridden every level of this roller coaster. I have accepted, I have hoped, I have forgotten, I have had to accept all over again. 

I have watched each of the doctors become fixated with squashing me into whatever box it is that they're peddling. The oncologists are obsessed with the cancer, the surgeons are desperate to cut you open and the radiologists explore you like you're harbouring hidden treasure. 

So what exactly am I waiting for? Months after being diagnosed, the doctors still need hard evidence of what type of lymphoma is living inside of me. My cancer isn't leaving clues. Sneaky fucker. 

Also, in the past month, a scan showed I now have four tumours. One of them is in my pelvis. Yes, I have crotch cancer. Awesome. 

So now they have four places to examine, poke, prod, cut and stick needles into. 

Until they figure it out, there'll be no treatment, which is fine because now would be a pretty shitty time for that. Although, I checked my diary and I'm not seeing any good time for chemo. 

That said, I've actually made peace with the chemo. Waiting for this long is bizarrely calming. In the same way that moms get a nine month head start, I feel peacefully prepared for what's coming. 

In the meantime, I still have zero symptoms (not even the weight loss one). In fact, I may be the only person with cancer who's picked up the Freshman 10 (except I'm not a freshman). 

My life is pretty fantastic right now. I'm moving into a beautiful new home and I got a massive promotion at work. The latter blows me away as I've been very upfront with them about my cancer from the start and they still have enough faith in me to come along for the cancer ride. 

So, fuck you, cancer. You don't get to steal anything from me; except my patience. 

Waiting.