Nothing to report this week…

foggy morning sunshine
This week feels a bit like I’ve been walking through a fog. Hopefully the sunlight burns it all off soon…

Nothing has changed for a week

I’ve been going about my routines as though everything is perfectly normal. For the most part, it has been. I had thought that, by now, I would have received various calls I’ve been waiting for: from the surgeon to book my next biopsy, or from the CT department to move my scan up a bit, and so on. But I haven’t heard anything. This entire week has been radio silence from the health care side of things, and I’ve been going to work, coming home, making dinner, picking up the kids from daycare, doing laundry… all those perfectly normal, routine things that make up everyday life.

The difference from actual normalcy and this holding pattern I’ve been in shows itself when, every so often, the word cancer floats to the top of my consciousness. “Oh, hey, yeah, I have cancer,” and my stomach tightens a bit and I feel my heart beating a bit faster and I have to pause a moment to acknowledge the thought, give it a place in my mind, and continue doing whatever it is that I’m doing.

When I think about it, the sentence “I have cancer” never feels quite accurate. It’s not like having a cold. I didn’t catch this thing by having someone sneeze on me, or getting a bad blood transfusion. It’s my own cells trying to put in extra hours when they really should just relax. “I have cancer” doesn’t cover that. But I haven’t yet figured out a phrase to reflect the reality better that doesn’t sound vague and inaccurate.

So I’m carrying on with my life through occasional hiccups that make me stop in my tracks for a few seconds. I have my CT scan on Tuesday, since it never got moved closer. I’ll have surgery sometime soon. Chemo will start in November sometime I think. Nothing much has changed.