So the other day, I was rocking out to Billy Joel with my kids. I'll readily admit that I am a big, big fan of his. And honestly, I think all children should be well versed in his music. That might be a bit much....But honestly, no swear words, no obvious misogyny?? Anywho, the song Only the Good Die Young came on. I'm singing my little heart out, keeping up with my man. (NOTE: I was informed that singing loudly was good for my lungs- makes 'em healthy and strong!!!) But, I was stopped in my tracks by the super sad face on my 12 y.o. With eyes cast down, he mumbled, "I don't like this song. You're young." Quickly I replied: "Yeah, but I'm not that good."
And so it goes...
It's true. I am young. And for the most part I'm good- but it starts to break down right about here.
You see, I have a lot of doctors on the payroll. A LOT. And I've developed a sort of irreverent disdain for all their "college-y book learning." Perhaps it's because I've heard one time too many: "Well, we don't know what is wrong with you." or "What do you think we should do?" or was sitting around one time too many, so fucking sick from their prescribed cures. Anyway, a while I ago I caught on to their game. And much like when I reached adulthood and grew to see my parents as humans, I have done the same with my doctors.
Sure they know a heck of a lot more than I when it comes to disease. But cures?? I've come to think that a lot of that is knowledge plus a great deal of dumb luck. I mean, if they're so smart, how come so many of the good are still dying young? Ok, I'll back down a little bit from that, as we have made tremendous progress with curing disease that once felled us. But I do believe that the more we know, the more we have to learn.
Can I get an amen?
Today I had the fortunate opportunity to meet up with my SCCA pulmonary team. And let me tell ya, Dr. Madtes and his support staffer, Maria are wonderful human beings. We have what I like to call, a very creative relationship built upon respect and tolerance- more on his team's side than my own, of course.
And here's why: I've decided to play pharmacist and pulmonologist in my own home...It takes some serious creativity on my part. But I think I play these roles nicely. After learning of the status of my crappy bones: "They're weakening due to the prednisone." And my boobs are just getting out of hand. (DDD, really?) Well I decided to speed things up a bit by tapering, weaning, whatever the hell you want to call it, a little faster than the team planned. You see, Madtes, et all wanted to keep me at a higher dose through summer. Whereas I agreed to stay on the drugs, but at a much lower dose. (See? Creative respect at work here...) The last two meetings with them, I've informed them of my jumping the gun. And goody for my dumb luck, I am doing just fine.
Now I don't dare get too cocky about this. That's all I need is for my lungs to crap out on me while also being required to eat crow. That is just too much multitasking for this little lady. But I can't help but feel just a little bit smug about my progress. I shared this with the team. They gently smiled and reminded me, gently, that I still have a ways to go. That I need to still take time. That it just ain't over, till it's over. Yeah, yeah...I heard them. I am slowing down. I am following their lead- for NOW. I see them again in mid-July. And who knows just where my life experience earned MD degree will lead me?
Also this Thursday I go back for my regular check for cancer. This time they just want my blood rather than a CT scan. And normally I just shake these appointments off with a confident: "I got this" attitude. But, something is different this time.
Perhaps it's because I am suspicious of happiness? (I've been oh, so happy these past few months.) Perhaps all of those months of sitting in cancer group and listening to others' anxieties about their check-ups have finally gotten to me? Perhaps I've lost too many friends too soon?? I don't know. But unfortunately I am no longer that blithe "it-ain't-cancer-till-it's-cancer" chick. And I am just so disappointed in myself.
I liked her a lot.
But I now realize that perhaps there was a short-coming to that kind of insight. Maybe, just maybe, cancer has taught me a little bit more about fear than I realized? Trust me. I fear very, very little. I think there's like two things on my fear list...And the shit that would have felled me two years ago I can now handle before breakfast. Yes, I know...fear is unavoidable. But it doesn't cripple me. And yet there's Thursday to tackle.
I have no clue what the tea leaves will read for me. I am no longer traipsing through the world of post treatment blithely trusting in my body to do the "right" thing. But I know this much. I really am not that good. So perhaps that will buy me some time?
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