Doin' Time at the U

I started this blog to chronicle my journey through breast cancer treatment. There is never just one story, though. My story is entwined with the stories of others, and in addition to having cancer, I am the caregiver for my daughter who has cancer. I wish more than anything that this was not the case, that I had the luxury of sitting back and allowing others to care for me while I wait for my surgery date. After my daughter was diagnosed I screamed to the heavens "let it be me, not her." I didn't mean in addition to her.

So today is the first day of the first cycle of a new chemotherapy treatment. I would say that we got up at the crack of dawn to come to University of Michigan hospital, but dawn was hours away. We arrived here at 7:30 a.m. on the coldest damned day in history to have her blood drawn and chemo port accessed. Then we waited an hour to see the doctor. Then we waited another hour to be called into the infusion area. We will be here until about 7:00 tonight. While she reclines in a comfy chair, I sit alongside in a not so comfy chair. We have books and snacks, I brought my knitting and laptop, she has her iPad and is watching Downton Abbey. I would like very much to take a nap but it is impossible in this not so comfy chair with no place to put my feet up.

She is taking part in a research study, which is part of the reason we have such a long day here. In addition to the chemotherapy drugs she will receive an infusion of antibodies or a placebo. There is a 67% chance she will receive the actual antibodies, but we will never know for sure unless she experiences adverse effects. I am hoping that she receives the good stuff and not some useless saline solution. I want her to have the benefit of any possible thing available. She feels that no matter what she is helping others who come after her. I admire that about her.

The good news today is that we have been assured that these chemotherapy drugs should not be as debilitating as the last kind. Two years ago she would spend three longs days here at the hospital, followed by a week and a half of laying on the couch feeling like she had the flu and a hangover all rolled into one awful living hell. Then in another ten days when she just started to feel human again another cycle started. Over and over and over for months. Six cycles in all. But, the tumor in her lung was reduced by about 50%, so it was worth it. Granted, she did not think so while she felt like the living dead. More than once she said the only reason that she was going through it was for her children. I can relate to that.

Her oncologist felt that she would expect to see the tumor start growing again within a year. Well, it's been two years. Two good years. Two years with her children, friends and family. Two years of learning what is really important in life. Two years of gratitude for each moment. For me it has been a time to let go of the overwhelming fear, to embrace hope. I have learned to look at reality head on and to appreciate every good thing in my life.

When we were told that the tumor had finally begun to grow again I was gripped once again with powerful sadness. But I was quickly able to find that deep level of acceptance that I have gained over the last few years, to face what is right in front of me. So here we are again, passing the time by joking about hair loss and deciding what to have for lunch from the hospital cafeteria. All of the petty worries fall away as we sit here with others who are fighting for their lives with courage and grace. I know what the statistics say about this disease that wants to take my daughter, but I will not live in the fear. I will live in the hope and joy of every day with her. I will continue to believe that she will respond positively to the chemotherapy. I wake up each morning expecting a miracle.