Why did the chicken...

I tell you, I never really understood that joke.  I always thought it was supposed to be funny because it wasn't funny, or that it was stating the obvious.  Why did the chicken cross the road?  What other reason could it be than to get to the other side?  Any other answer is just missing the point.  Why do we do anything?  Why do I pick up my purse?  To have my belongings with me.  Why do I get in the car?  To drive.  Why do I drive?  To get to my treatment.  Why do I go to treatment?  To live.  Why do I live?  To get to the other side.  It's pretty funny to realize how easy life is - just put one foot in front of the other.  Cross the road, that's all you need to think about.  Those chickens are pretty damn smart.

Today was treatment #6.  It went pretty quick, stayed on my computer all day catching up on emails and SoYouThinkYouCanDance that I missed Tues. night.  Is it me or does that show have a little less heart this season?  The dancing is still mind blowing, but I feel less connected to it.  Maybe because there's no ballet, and no Mia Michaels so far.  Oh well, gotta let some other choreographers have a crack at it.

For the first time since I got to Hilo for treatments I saw someone around my age in the clinic getting treatment too.  It's a strange feeling of connection you have with the people in the clinic.  I actually love going to cancer facilities.  You can walk in with your bald head and the looks you get are not, "oh my, does she?", or, "what the...".  People look up, and have a, "oh, you too huh?  Good for you for still standing", or "oh, you look like I feel" look on their face and get back to what they were doing.  Perfect strangers bonded in an instant with only a 2 second glance.  Anyone going through cancer treatments or have gone through cancer treatments "knows".  To enter the Pit of Despair (Princess Bride reference...ahem) is only fully understood by walking the walk.  I can try and explain and describe, but the experience is a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts...you know what I mean.  (I'm still high off the benadryl - they gave me extra today).

The facilities in CA and HI are nice to go to.  The staff is so welcoming and understanding.  Those oncology nurses are made of some strong stuff - they get you what you need before you ask, and sit and listen to your side-effects with sympathy but not pity.  A very tough task if you ask me.  But for all the chemo chairs that have been filled next to me I've only met one other patient that looked about my age.  Dina was with me, it was in CA.  This super tall, kinda cute guy had the chair next to me in a common room with 4 other chairs.  Dina and I kept trying to steal glances - no not because he was cute, but because he was young, and the question that unavoidably falls into your mind is, "what kind?".  I had talked to a few very inspiring people during treatments that reached out to me with supportive words telling me I was going to get through this, that I was too young for this disease.  But really, who is old enough for cancer?  I bet you ask any cancer patient if they are ready to die, and the answer will always be no.  Not ready.  Maybe accepting, but not ready.  How can you be ready for the unknown?

So not having met anyone my age at that time who also had cancer was a bit lonely.  Not because I was young, but because I didn't share a lot of the life experiences my chair mates have had.  Barely married, no kids, no grandkids, no career, no house, not traveled, so many things that I was planning on and never thought that some huge obstacle would be dropped in my life path preventing me from reaching those pre-planned goals.  We all did share our pain in common - that was the same no matter what our life experiences had been up to that point, and that was a huge amount of comfort.  So this guy looked like he was a pro at treatment.  He had a crossword with him and Dina and I started helping him cheat to fill it in with our blackberrys.

I've always felt that yea, it's not what I expected that this is the card I was dealt, but I still think it's fair.  Someone has to carry this burden, it's a numbers game.  Someone has to win the lottery, someone has to get attacked by a shark, someone has to have birdshit land on their head.  I guess I was just happy to meet someone else who got hit by birdshit on the supposed "rise" of their life.  Happy may not be the right word, I'm never happy anyone has cancer.  Being able to look in someone's eyes that knows your pain, and knows how hard it is to let go of some of the same dreams you had is just comforting.

I've felt like the baby of the Hilo clinic.  People are still nice, still sympathetic and not pitying.  On the way to my room I passed a room that had some younger guys crammed into it (the rooms are small).  I couldn't see the patient - I could hear laughter and talking and smelled some yummy food.  It was nice.  I walked by later on my way to the bathroom and looked into the eyes of a patient about my age with a big smile on her face - made me feel comforted at once again.  I've been missing my "cancer buddies".  We've come a long way, and I couldn't have stepped forward on this path so sure-footed without the encouragement of Jen S., Maria C., Kristin S., and a few others that I have met along this path.  Such amazing young women with loads of fight oozing out of their pores.  Women with a zest for life that makes you want to take hold of your own, shake it around in the air, and go running into the sea naked!!!  (Sorry, benadryl).

I have my scans coming up again in the next few weeks.  I know I'm not supposed to put a lot of importance on them - they are made to tell us what to do next, not what is going to happen to me next.  Still, I can't help but want them to give me good news...or not bad news.  I feel like there has been improvement, and I'm such a competitive person I want there to be a lot of improvement so I can pin it on the fridge and get my cookie.  That's not how these things work.  I just need to get to the other side - that's it.  And when I cross the road I'll find another road, and I'll get to the other side of that one.  And I'll cross another road...

Love,
Denise