Okay, so I want to let Denise write, because I couldn't do justice to explain her emotions right now. The news is, that after months of trying to get into a clinical trial, we have finally been excepted. We leave for Seattle a week from tomorrow. We'll be there at least until Oct. 20th. This trial will include the parb inhibitor and a couple of other heavy duty drugs. This is cautioned excitement at this point. There is no guarantee that this is a "cure." It is, however, our best option! At this point at least we'll know if it works or not. Thanks to all for staying positive and keeping the energy flowing. It's not going to be easy being away from Hawai'i. I miss it already! This is home, but Denise's survival depends on a successful time in Seattle, so I'm all in.
Bri
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The Q
We all have many questions in our life. Many of us are afraid to ask for many reasons. We don't want to offend anyone, embarrass anyone, confuse anyone or let anyone down. We were always told to question everything when we were young, so why is it so hard to ask? My questions are all over the map. This experience has lead me to reevaluate society as a whole and how it operates. I won't bore you or anger you with my new views on politics, corporations, retirement, education, or religion. I want to relive a question that Denise had last year in Sacramento.
We went to a group therapy session in Folsom, California called the "Magical Child." I don't want to go into specifics because of the deeply private situation that we experienced with a lot of meaningful people. It was a moment for us to look into each other and understand that we stood together even though we don't always talk about it. It was a moment to let all emotion out, when most often we're constantly holding it in to protect the other.
The question for her that weekend was, "How do you die gracefully?" This is not something that anyone can tell you the answer. It's something that happens or doesn't happen. Denise is a highly analytical person. She loves nothing more than to dissect a situation and make 'sense' of it. She does this very well and often describes things to me in more of a junior language with a lot of mental pictures. I like my books that way too! To make 'sense' of death, however, and to die gracefully was something I wasn't too sure that even she could do successfully.
After reading her last blog, I have to say that she is one of the most graceful people I now know! We don't discuss what each other is going to write or when, it just happens. I'm in awe that she can verbalize what's happening. Of course, I've know the direness of the situation and have let only a few people know exactly where she stands. She is without a doubt living gracefully. I don't want to say that she's dying gracefully because that would be conceding the battle. If in fact death is coming, I'm here to say that grace is coming with.
Baby......your question has been answered by nobody other than you! You continue to inspire me, I love you more today than I did when I married you. I don't want to loose you, but I'm comforted by the knowledge you have given me. I don't always get it right, but will always think of your lessons when I make decisions. You don't need to do anything to make your life a success, but you can do anything you want to add to it. What a drive down Bayfront tonight, huh!
Much Love,
Bri
We went to a group therapy session in Folsom, California called the "Magical Child." I don't want to go into specifics because of the deeply private situation that we experienced with a lot of meaningful people. It was a moment for us to look into each other and understand that we stood together even though we don't always talk about it. It was a moment to let all emotion out, when most often we're constantly holding it in to protect the other.
The question for her that weekend was, "How do you die gracefully?" This is not something that anyone can tell you the answer. It's something that happens or doesn't happen. Denise is a highly analytical person. She loves nothing more than to dissect a situation and make 'sense' of it. She does this very well and often describes things to me in more of a junior language with a lot of mental pictures. I like my books that way too! To make 'sense' of death, however, and to die gracefully was something I wasn't too sure that even she could do successfully.
After reading her last blog, I have to say that she is one of the most graceful people I now know! We don't discuss what each other is going to write or when, it just happens. I'm in awe that she can verbalize what's happening. Of course, I've know the direness of the situation and have let only a few people know exactly where she stands. She is without a doubt living gracefully. I don't want to say that she's dying gracefully because that would be conceding the battle. If in fact death is coming, I'm here to say that grace is coming with.
Baby......your question has been answered by nobody other than you! You continue to inspire me, I love you more today than I did when I married you. I don't want to loose you, but I'm comforted by the knowledge you have given me. I don't always get it right, but will always think of your lessons when I make decisions. You don't need to do anything to make your life a success, but you can do anything you want to add to it. What a drive down Bayfront tonight, huh!
Much Love,
Bri
The Calcification of Hope
Brian tells me it's not my responsibility to protect anyone from bad or sad news. This blog was created for updates - good and bad. I've said it before, I never promised rainbows and blue skies all the time. I just promised honesty. I guess I just wish that I did have a miracle to share with you. I wish I had some good news about all the hope and wishes and prayers that we all have been putting in a bucket...well, my bucket still has a big hole, and it seems that we can't fill it with wishes fast enough.
We've known for the past 6 weeks or so that the chemo is not really working. My liver tumor is still growing. I go through peaks and valleys of pain and no-pain. The chemo does help in pushing the tumor back, but it's like fighting a wild fire with a garden hose. If you are envisioning a withering Denise stuck in bed, that's not the case. I am up and about, I'm distracting myself with helping alohAMondays, having a few select visitors, enjoying the sky, reading, cooking, and anything to get my mind off of things. I have been avoiding the blog because I'm just tired of people feeling sorry for me, tired of people hoping and praying for an outcome that may not be in my future, tired of telling you guys that no matter how bad things get that I am going to pull through. The truth is, considering my current treatment we are only doing our best to extend my life. That could be months, it could be years, but our window of hope for a cure has all but closed at this point.
I know this news leaves you in a suspended state of not knowing what to say or what to do. I know you want to shake someone to do something, you want to find a miracle cure and tell anyone who will listen that my life cannot end this way. You want to tell me that you are sorry and offer yourself for anything that you can do to help...but you know what I need from you right now? Is to join me and learn to not be afraid of facing death. To not look upon me as unfortunate, or isolate me as different, and to not pity me. Life ends, we all know this. Some of us have had to face death in losing a husband, or mother, or child before we felt we had enough time together. But I ask you, how much is enough time together? I used to bargain with Death, "just 17 years, give me 17 more years with Brian and then you can take me". I don't know why 17, but I thought that a reasonable number. Then it changed to 10 years as we continued to get bad news about my cancer, then it went down to 5 years, and currently I'm hoping for 2. Whatever time I am granted it will never be enough. I will always want one more day, one more moment. What I realize now is that I already have everything I need to move on to the next step. Every extra moment I have, every extra sunrise I see is a precious and generous gift.
This blog has become much more than I ever thought it would be. At first it was just a way to get the news out to family and friends about the course of my treatment. I didn't foresee it turning into a mode of communicating to a larger network of people about the strife of being a young woman struggling for life. I didn't think that I would ever have to report the news that I might be losing this battle. I didn't think that these private and personal events of my life would be made public to people that may not know me in person...but can connect to me in heart.
When I was first diagnosed I kept telling myself that everything happens for a reason - that this cancer was given to me for a greater purpose...but I couldn't figure out what that purpose was. Maybe my purpose is to be a voice - a voice for the dying to give life for the living. I mean, I'm still not convinced that my fight is over - far from it. Even though I accept death is my ultimate outcome, I will still remain a soldier treating this body like a temple and doing everything in my power to be as healthy as possible. Maybe you can tell me my purpose. I feel that all of this is worth it if I have convinced any one of you to make a positive change in your life. Have you gotten health insurance? Do you watch what you eat more carefully? Do you read labels on your lotions and shampoos? Have you educated yourself on what cancerous toxins exist in your environment? Do you eat less refined sugars and processed food? Have you cut back on drinking? Quit smoking? How about on a overall quality of life perspective? Have you reached out to an estranged brother or father? Said "I love you" to someone that deserves to hear that in your life? Forgiven someone for something that you are holding on to useless anger for? Decided to let go of people that are toxic to your own health? Have you chosen to live a more peaceful life? Do you stop and appreciate everything that you have? Tell me. Tell me how your life has changed. This is the medicine that I need. My heart has infinite room for your stories of success, no matter how small you think it is...tell me. You can email niseandbrian@gmail.com. If we've never met, even better. Tell me how two strangers can be connected through grace.
Hope for me is a shining white flag that sails above us through the storm. Our soaring hope for a cure of my cancer is stiffening up in the harsh elements it is being battered in. Our hope has exhausted so many choices and attempts to outrun this cancer. But our hope doesn't have to only exist for life. Hope extends to a greater good. Hope exists for the realization of love, and for the happiness that lives inside each of us. My hope is to have each and every one of you find your inner happiness and realize that no matter how good or bad your life may seem, that inner happiness will always exist inside of you.
That is all for now. I will make up for lost time on the blog. I know you all respect my need to take the time to find the right way to share this news with you. I just needed some time.
love,
Denise
We've known for the past 6 weeks or so that the chemo is not really working. My liver tumor is still growing. I go through peaks and valleys of pain and no-pain. The chemo does help in pushing the tumor back, but it's like fighting a wild fire with a garden hose. If you are envisioning a withering Denise stuck in bed, that's not the case. I am up and about, I'm distracting myself with helping alohAMondays, having a few select visitors, enjoying the sky, reading, cooking, and anything to get my mind off of things. I have been avoiding the blog because I'm just tired of people feeling sorry for me, tired of people hoping and praying for an outcome that may not be in my future, tired of telling you guys that no matter how bad things get that I am going to pull through. The truth is, considering my current treatment we are only doing our best to extend my life. That could be months, it could be years, but our window of hope for a cure has all but closed at this point.
I know this news leaves you in a suspended state of not knowing what to say or what to do. I know you want to shake someone to do something, you want to find a miracle cure and tell anyone who will listen that my life cannot end this way. You want to tell me that you are sorry and offer yourself for anything that you can do to help...but you know what I need from you right now? Is to join me and learn to not be afraid of facing death. To not look upon me as unfortunate, or isolate me as different, and to not pity me. Life ends, we all know this. Some of us have had to face death in losing a husband, or mother, or child before we felt we had enough time together. But I ask you, how much is enough time together? I used to bargain with Death, "just 17 years, give me 17 more years with Brian and then you can take me". I don't know why 17, but I thought that a reasonable number. Then it changed to 10 years as we continued to get bad news about my cancer, then it went down to 5 years, and currently I'm hoping for 2. Whatever time I am granted it will never be enough. I will always want one more day, one more moment. What I realize now is that I already have everything I need to move on to the next step. Every extra moment I have, every extra sunrise I see is a precious and generous gift.
This blog has become much more than I ever thought it would be. At first it was just a way to get the news out to family and friends about the course of my treatment. I didn't foresee it turning into a mode of communicating to a larger network of people about the strife of being a young woman struggling for life. I didn't think that I would ever have to report the news that I might be losing this battle. I didn't think that these private and personal events of my life would be made public to people that may not know me in person...but can connect to me in heart.
When I was first diagnosed I kept telling myself that everything happens for a reason - that this cancer was given to me for a greater purpose...but I couldn't figure out what that purpose was. Maybe my purpose is to be a voice - a voice for the dying to give life for the living. I mean, I'm still not convinced that my fight is over - far from it. Even though I accept death is my ultimate outcome, I will still remain a soldier treating this body like a temple and doing everything in my power to be as healthy as possible. Maybe you can tell me my purpose. I feel that all of this is worth it if I have convinced any one of you to make a positive change in your life. Have you gotten health insurance? Do you watch what you eat more carefully? Do you read labels on your lotions and shampoos? Have you educated yourself on what cancerous toxins exist in your environment? Do you eat less refined sugars and processed food? Have you cut back on drinking? Quit smoking? How about on a overall quality of life perspective? Have you reached out to an estranged brother or father? Said "I love you" to someone that deserves to hear that in your life? Forgiven someone for something that you are holding on to useless anger for? Decided to let go of people that are toxic to your own health? Have you chosen to live a more peaceful life? Do you stop and appreciate everything that you have? Tell me. Tell me how your life has changed. This is the medicine that I need. My heart has infinite room for your stories of success, no matter how small you think it is...tell me. You can email niseandbrian@gmail.com. If we've never met, even better. Tell me how two strangers can be connected through grace.
Hope for me is a shining white flag that sails above us through the storm. Our soaring hope for a cure of my cancer is stiffening up in the harsh elements it is being battered in. Our hope has exhausted so many choices and attempts to outrun this cancer. But our hope doesn't have to only exist for life. Hope extends to a greater good. Hope exists for the realization of love, and for the happiness that lives inside each of us. My hope is to have each and every one of you find your inner happiness and realize that no matter how good or bad your life may seem, that inner happiness will always exist inside of you.
That is all for now. I will make up for lost time on the blog. I know you all respect my need to take the time to find the right way to share this news with you. I just needed some time.
love,
Denise
PS - I owe so many good people a call, an email...a some kind of acknowledgment that I am ok, not ok, or just plain breathing. I know none of you blame me for my silence, but if I can't rise above my hardships to continue to live a respectable life, then life becomes so much harder for myself. So Jen S., Vern, Nicol, Jen C., Maria C., Kristin S. and the rest of you that have not given up or given in to my silence please know that I think about you all daily, and was just plain hiding from the fact that I still have cancer.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Time flies by even when the seconds seem to last forever! Each day brings new challenges, and it's those challenges that makes the days seem to crawl by. The second I pass by a calendar, I'm shocked to see the date. I don't live Monday through Sunday anymore. The days are just days, each as meaningful as the last. I don't have bad Mondays and my weekends are no more pleasurable than an average Wednesday. I don't remember how old I am, or how old you are for that matter. I don't remember holidays, big or small. I don't understand why those days are supposed to be more special than any other day. I suppose that my outlook on life will never involve a calendar again, except when I need one to book a ticket somewhere.
B
B
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Trucks R Priceless
A little over four and a half years ago, I purchased a brand new Nissan Titan. Top of the line, all the options, and all of the price tag. I didn't even question the cost, I needed it. Of course, any number of less expensive trucks could of potentially all ready been paid off, but that's not who I was as a person then. I've always liked nice cars, this case a truck. I've always made bad decisions when getting cars. Usually, spur of the moment, no plan and definitely no negotiating. Fast as I can, in and out, with new ride!
I needed this truck for work of course...........and pleasure of course! It has certainly paid me back as a worthwhile tool. I use this thing for everything. Hauling, pulling, pushing, surfing, and going places with Denise. The work side of it is great. Makes yard work a whole lot better, when I can drive my truck around the property full of trees and brush and dump it in the back. It's saved me so many hours of labor, I would have paid twice as much as I did. What makes it really priceless is how many memories I have in it with Denise.
It was with Denise and the truck that we spent 10 hours getting to Tahoe in a blizzard with US 50 shut down. It was with Denise and the truck traveling up the 1 to Serenesea in Mendocino. It was with Denise and the truck traveling to Santa Cruz to get my new beach cruiser. It was with Denise and the truck to Sacramento to see Trip guys all the time. It was with Denise and the truck to all of those baseball games. It was with Denise and the truck to Kona side for some R and R. It was with Denise and the truck to Champagne ponds and the tidal pools near Kapoho. The list goes on and on.
Tonight was the best though. It was with Denise and the truck packed up with air mattress and sleeping bags up Mauna Kea to watch the stars. It was about 40 degress, but in the bed of the truck we might as well have been in our bed at home. So comfortable and better entertainment that television could ever dream of being. The stars were out in force. No silly moon to get in the way of the show. Shooting stars, the big dipper, whatever planets those were in the early evening sky........and yes, a snoring wife. Did I mention this was priceless?
Reality says that there may not be too many more of these memories made, but I wouldn't exchange more memories for the ones that I already have in a million years. That sounded kind of harsh when I read it back to myself, but I stand by it. We have lived our lives together exactly how we wanted to. To take that away for a longer time together, would change our whole philosophy on life. Take what's in front of you. Enjoy today, because you never know what tomorrow brings, right? This does not make my love for Denise weaker, in actually proves to me that what we have has been worth it. It feels full no matter if it ends tomorrow or 100 years from now. At the end of each day, it was worth it!
Much Love,
Bri
I needed this truck for work of course...........and pleasure of course! It has certainly paid me back as a worthwhile tool. I use this thing for everything. Hauling, pulling, pushing, surfing, and going places with Denise. The work side of it is great. Makes yard work a whole lot better, when I can drive my truck around the property full of trees and brush and dump it in the back. It's saved me so many hours of labor, I would have paid twice as much as I did. What makes it really priceless is how many memories I have in it with Denise.
It was with Denise and the truck that we spent 10 hours getting to Tahoe in a blizzard with US 50 shut down. It was with Denise and the truck traveling up the 1 to Serenesea in Mendocino. It was with Denise and the truck traveling to Santa Cruz to get my new beach cruiser. It was with Denise and the truck to Sacramento to see Trip guys all the time. It was with Denise and the truck to all of those baseball games. It was with Denise and the truck to Kona side for some R and R. It was with Denise and the truck to Champagne ponds and the tidal pools near Kapoho. The list goes on and on.
Tonight was the best though. It was with Denise and the truck packed up with air mattress and sleeping bags up Mauna Kea to watch the stars. It was about 40 degress, but in the bed of the truck we might as well have been in our bed at home. So comfortable and better entertainment that television could ever dream of being. The stars were out in force. No silly moon to get in the way of the show. Shooting stars, the big dipper, whatever planets those were in the early evening sky........and yes, a snoring wife. Did I mention this was priceless?
Reality says that there may not be too many more of these memories made, but I wouldn't exchange more memories for the ones that I already have in a million years. That sounded kind of harsh when I read it back to myself, but I stand by it. We have lived our lives together exactly how we wanted to. To take that away for a longer time together, would change our whole philosophy on life. Take what's in front of you. Enjoy today, because you never know what tomorrow brings, right? This does not make my love for Denise weaker, in actually proves to me that what we have has been worth it. It feels full no matter if it ends tomorrow or 100 years from now. At the end of each day, it was worth it!
Much Love,
Bri
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Once a dancer always a dancer?
I danced ballet for almost 25 consecutive years. It's really hard for me to pick any one thing that I am proud of, but I am proud of once being able to call myself a dancer. I had 2 ballet teachers my whole life. #1 Mrs. D, Emily Danford. I learned that I was a dancer through Mrs. D. #2 Audrey King. I learned that I sucked as a dancer through Audrey King, but since I was a dancer I had no choice but to work as hard as I could, take as much abuse as any person could handle (or most people would not handle the abuse a dancer willingly takes), and keep working to reach that unattainable goal of being a better dancer.
When you are 4 years old going to dance class is pretty much all about pink tutus and running around with all your friends. Mrs. D was everything you would picture a ballet teacher would be - she was tall and lithe, and when she walked she looked like she was gliding. She had chic short black hair, an old record player, a bumper sticker on her car "Shut-up and Dance", and buckets and buckets of kindness and patience. She worked on me a lot as a little kid, and I took it for granted. She used to tell me if I just tried I could be so much better...but I didn't try. I was spoiled and sassy and lazy. One day when I was about 13 I realized as she walked around the class correcting girls, she would just smile and pass me. No corrections. I knew I wasn't doing the exercise well, but she hadn't said so...in fact she hadn't said much to me for weeks. She had given up.
Something clicked in me. I didn't want to be passed over. I wanted to get better, I wanted to be a dancer.
From that day on I stopped goofing off and started working. I stretched, I pulled, I hurt, I listened, I tried, I fell, I bleed, and I never stopped. Thankfully Mrs. D saw that I was putting in the effort and she let me back in to her gaze. Those years at The Hilo School of Ballet were some of the best of my life. I would not be the stubborn, independent, hard working, strong willed woman I am today if it weren't for Mrs. D. She would tell us there is no such word as "can't" - she wouldn't accept it. Somewhere along the way everything I learned about working hard in dance applied to the rest of my life. You worked until there was nothing left. Then you pushed that limit back and worked some more. You didn't stop until you reached perfection, and then you improved upon it. You weren't just dancing for yourself, or for your audience. You were dancing for your fellow dancers, and if you didn't give perfection you were tarnishing the hard work they were shouldering as well.
I went off to college excited and scared to start a new dance class. At an open house at the dance studio I met Audrey King - she was 79 years old, 5'1", all dressed in purple, and with a sweet South African accent. I was in love. Classes were 6:15 am 3 times a week...no problem, I wrote her a check on the spot and couldn't wait for classes to start. I think back to how naive I was. Throughout the years with Audrey watching dancers come and go I learned her pattern. She didn't turn on the guns until you got comfortable in her class. The first two classes were fine, hard, but fine. Then the gloves came off. I would leave her class in tears once a week for the 1st year I was with Audrey. I was a "duck flailing in the wind", a "cow on ice", "deaf", "stupid", "not built for ballet"...that last one might seem especially harsh. What you need to know is that she got in my face and worked me because she could see that I was a dancer in my heart. She would stand in front of me glaring into my eyes with her stern blue eyes and all yellow outfit and tell me I had to work harder than everyone because I wasn't built with the natural gift of dance. It didn't mean I couldn't work for it. If Audrey didn't yell at you, you might as well just leave the class. We didn't go to class 3x a week at 6:15am to be complimented and coddled. We went to get better, and little Audrey King in her all baby blue outfit wasn't going to get you to be a better dancer by going easy on you.
I never left Audrey's classes. I stuck with her all through college. There were a dozen times I swore I would never go back, but come 6:15am Monday morning I was dragging myself out of bed wrestling with pink tights and running to class. She made me a better dancer, she made me have the tolerance and will power of a trained soldier. I have been able to endure impossible situations throughout my life because Audrey showed me the depths to my strengths.
I am Denise because of dance. My heart breaks knowing that I may never dance again. This is something that cancer has taken from me. But as the days go by, some in pain, some in a haze, some in sadness, I can endure each day because I am a dancer in my heart. I will keep trying, I will grit my teeth through the hurt and never complain, I will endure because I was taught to fight for what I want. I haven't been in the writing mood lately because I am deep in the trenches of this fight. I guess this is the hardest dance I've ever had to learn, and I'm not getting it. I'm frustrated with myself, frustrated with my body for not cooperating.
I've never met an obstacle that I haven't overcome. I can handle this. No such word as "can't".
love,
Denise
When you are 4 years old going to dance class is pretty much all about pink tutus and running around with all your friends. Mrs. D was everything you would picture a ballet teacher would be - she was tall and lithe, and when she walked she looked like she was gliding. She had chic short black hair, an old record player, a bumper sticker on her car "Shut-up and Dance", and buckets and buckets of kindness and patience. She worked on me a lot as a little kid, and I took it for granted. She used to tell me if I just tried I could be so much better...but I didn't try. I was spoiled and sassy and lazy. One day when I was about 13 I realized as she walked around the class correcting girls, she would just smile and pass me. No corrections. I knew I wasn't doing the exercise well, but she hadn't said so...in fact she hadn't said much to me for weeks. She had given up.
Something clicked in me. I didn't want to be passed over. I wanted to get better, I wanted to be a dancer.
From that day on I stopped goofing off and started working. I stretched, I pulled, I hurt, I listened, I tried, I fell, I bleed, and I never stopped. Thankfully Mrs. D saw that I was putting in the effort and she let me back in to her gaze. Those years at The Hilo School of Ballet were some of the best of my life. I would not be the stubborn, independent, hard working, strong willed woman I am today if it weren't for Mrs. D. She would tell us there is no such word as "can't" - she wouldn't accept it. Somewhere along the way everything I learned about working hard in dance applied to the rest of my life. You worked until there was nothing left. Then you pushed that limit back and worked some more. You didn't stop until you reached perfection, and then you improved upon it. You weren't just dancing for yourself, or for your audience. You were dancing for your fellow dancers, and if you didn't give perfection you were tarnishing the hard work they were shouldering as well.
I went off to college excited and scared to start a new dance class. At an open house at the dance studio I met Audrey King - she was 79 years old, 5'1", all dressed in purple, and with a sweet South African accent. I was in love. Classes were 6:15 am 3 times a week...no problem, I wrote her a check on the spot and couldn't wait for classes to start. I think back to how naive I was. Throughout the years with Audrey watching dancers come and go I learned her pattern. She didn't turn on the guns until you got comfortable in her class. The first two classes were fine, hard, but fine. Then the gloves came off. I would leave her class in tears once a week for the 1st year I was with Audrey. I was a "duck flailing in the wind", a "cow on ice", "deaf", "stupid", "not built for ballet"...that last one might seem especially harsh. What you need to know is that she got in my face and worked me because she could see that I was a dancer in my heart. She would stand in front of me glaring into my eyes with her stern blue eyes and all yellow outfit and tell me I had to work harder than everyone because I wasn't built with the natural gift of dance. It didn't mean I couldn't work for it. If Audrey didn't yell at you, you might as well just leave the class. We didn't go to class 3x a week at 6:15am to be complimented and coddled. We went to get better, and little Audrey King in her all baby blue outfit wasn't going to get you to be a better dancer by going easy on you.
I never left Audrey's classes. I stuck with her all through college. There were a dozen times I swore I would never go back, but come 6:15am Monday morning I was dragging myself out of bed wrestling with pink tights and running to class. She made me a better dancer, she made me have the tolerance and will power of a trained soldier. I have been able to endure impossible situations throughout my life because Audrey showed me the depths to my strengths.
I am Denise because of dance. My heart breaks knowing that I may never dance again. This is something that cancer has taken from me. But as the days go by, some in pain, some in a haze, some in sadness, I can endure each day because I am a dancer in my heart. I will keep trying, I will grit my teeth through the hurt and never complain, I will endure because I was taught to fight for what I want. I haven't been in the writing mood lately because I am deep in the trenches of this fight. I guess this is the hardest dance I've ever had to learn, and I'm not getting it. I'm frustrated with myself, frustrated with my body for not cooperating.
I've never met an obstacle that I haven't overcome. I can handle this. No such word as "can't".
love,
Denise
Thursday, May 6, 2010
can't blame the insomnia
why, why, why do I stay up so late? It used to be that I just couldn't sleep from all the meds running through my system. Lately though, with the exception of a few days after being pumped up on steroids after chemo, I've been sleeping just fine. I've been watching way too many Netflix instant movies. The sad thing is there are only a handful of truly good instant movies - the rest are all independent crap or foreign. I watched the entire Lost series - 5 seasons, like 20 episodes a season...that's 100 hours of Lost not even counting the current season! Then I tried to watch the old Fame series only to find out that out of 6 seasons Netflix only had 1 & 2!! I was sooo pissed! I need me some young Debbie Allen! What will crazy Mrs. Berg say next? Will Leroy ever learn to point his toes?
I don't know why I can't just turn off the computer and go to sleep. I love sleep. Maybe it's that time between stopping force feeding my brain with stimuli and actually falling asleep that I am avoiding. That's the time the thoughts crawl all over my brain like cockroaches in the dark. That's the time I overanalyze the pains in my body and wonder if the cancer has broken something that can't be fixed. It's the time that I plan my strategy to recovery and live out the dreams of running and dancing again. It's the time I spend listening to the sounds of the night and reflecting on how still my own life is along with the night. That quiet time before I fall asleep is sometimes filled with how much I don't look forward to another tomorrow of sitting at home trying to figure out what I can do to not be so monotonous and mundane. I have lots to do, but I don't always have the energy to do them...or sometimes I don't think it's so much the "energy" than it is the heart to do anything.
I try to stay pretty positive, but the truth is I'm not a sunny optimist all the time. Half of the time when I say positive encouraging things I'm more trying to convince myself rather than who I'm talking to. My theory is if I say, "I'm doing great" enough then I'll start believing it too at some point. The other half of the time I really do mean it though. I guess I just need a break. I wish i could take a mini vacation from this whole thing.
That's the thing about life - you can't really take a break from it. What fun would that be? You'd just be dead. At least all the shitty moments still mean that you are alive.
no more late night crap movies. Promise. Poisons the brain.
love,
Denise
I don't know why I can't just turn off the computer and go to sleep. I love sleep. Maybe it's that time between stopping force feeding my brain with stimuli and actually falling asleep that I am avoiding. That's the time the thoughts crawl all over my brain like cockroaches in the dark. That's the time I overanalyze the pains in my body and wonder if the cancer has broken something that can't be fixed. It's the time that I plan my strategy to recovery and live out the dreams of running and dancing again. It's the time I spend listening to the sounds of the night and reflecting on how still my own life is along with the night. That quiet time before I fall asleep is sometimes filled with how much I don't look forward to another tomorrow of sitting at home trying to figure out what I can do to not be so monotonous and mundane. I have lots to do, but I don't always have the energy to do them...or sometimes I don't think it's so much the "energy" than it is the heart to do anything.
I try to stay pretty positive, but the truth is I'm not a sunny optimist all the time. Half of the time when I say positive encouraging things I'm more trying to convince myself rather than who I'm talking to. My theory is if I say, "I'm doing great" enough then I'll start believing it too at some point. The other half of the time I really do mean it though. I guess I just need a break. I wish i could take a mini vacation from this whole thing.
That's the thing about life - you can't really take a break from it. What fun would that be? You'd just be dead. At least all the shitty moments still mean that you are alive.
no more late night crap movies. Promise. Poisons the brain.
love,
Denise
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