One Year Ago…
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Irene,
Nice to hear from you, we needed some ornery. I can be ornery, too, so I am going to hope that you are surprised by the news.
Patty
Irene,
I am so sorry for what you have gone through, but as you said, you are still here and that is something. I am hoping that you are doing OK and that your scan will go well.
Your posting has given me some comfort & understanding. Our ordeal with this horrible disease only last 7 weeks (although, I am still dealing with it) and I often felt it was unfair that we did not know sooner what we were dealing with or that we should have had a chance to fight it or be better prepared for the inevitable, but maybe that is the “lucky” part for us. I didn’t see it as lucky then, but in retrospect, maybe not knowing wasn’t a bad thing. Jim lived his live to the fullest until the last weeks when this awful cancer took over. I know now that knowing is not always a good thing, but I am hoping that you too will be able to live your life as normally as possible and get the most out of whatever time you have. We can always hope for a breakthrough in helping or curing this monster. Miracles do happen. One never knows what the future will bring.
Take care Irene. I will keep you in my thoughts & prayers.
Peace Love & Hugs,
DarlaIrene…seems that it has not been a year since your posting and your Mom’s passing. It is great hearing from you ornery and all. Good luck on the upcoming CT scan. I am hoping along with you for good news.
Hello All,
So it was just (almost) exactly one year ago when — during a work-up for a possible appendix problem — that my little tumor friend was first seen. After four months of inconclusive tests, choruses of “it’s probably nothing but we need to know for sure” and not one but two biopsies, the diagnosis was made. And the world as I knew it ended.
So here I am, a year later, still alive and kicking and ornery as ALL GET OUT, despite a failed surgery and a refusal to accept other treatment (chemo) as I thought the odds of it helping me were far outweighed by the damage that would be done to the healthy parts of me.
I am long past the point of believing I was “lucky” to be diagnoses early — this post-diagnosis time has been hell, including the death of my mother and that ever-present daily worry that today will be the day the end starts to come.
And yet I am still here — and at some level, I need to honor that. I go in for a CT scan later this month (after months of refusing further tests) and really, there’s no good news I am going to hear — just hoping it isn’t bad bad bad news.
Anyway. I think of so many of you so often, and how we are toyed wth by this sadistic illness and how our lives, our loves, our friends, are never, ever, the same.
Peace be with me and with all of you, too.
Irene
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