This too shall pass....I need to calm down.

I find that it's hard to control myself from crying, when the tears seem to have a mind of their own. And especially when you're in a public place.

A few weeks ago, I had to go to the hospital again. It's always a mental struggle for me when I have to do so. I try my best to be a good sport about it, but I always end up crying, out of frustration and anger. Its not a nice feeling to be helpless and be at the mercy of people, of whom I'm not so sure, if they know what they're doing ( like the ER doctor that said, "I don't know" after she take a look of my messed up arm with the PICC line ). I have nothing personal against hospitals but  it makes me  angry and desperately wanted to punch anyone in the face, whenever I have to go there and someone  tells me "It's just a simple procedure. You'll be fine."

I have been very patient and try to be okay, since I found out about my situation. But sometimes, I am fed up with it despite my prayers to have peace of mind. I started to think, what's the point of going through all the trouble and inconvenienced others in the process. Frankly, I am an inconvenience now. The people who cares about me can't make plans, without having to consider my situation. And I don't like to make plans anymore because I end up more frustrated if they don't pan out because something come up.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein 

My life now, consists of a cycle of "good" days and "not-so-good" days. Of course, I need not dwell on that fact or else I'd end up unhappy and miserable. So, on my good days, I try to take it all in and revel in the moment---the scenic walk around Westwood Lake; being able to watch the sunrise; the feel of the book in my hands, while reading; the taste of coffee; the chance to hang out with family and all the things I get to enjoy each day that I'm still here. I try to remember them all because unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, especially the good stuff. On the other hand, when I have a not-so-good day, like when I had to do blood work more than once in one day or that time when I had to go to the hospital because I had a fever--- I steel myself  and go ahead with it, no matter what I feel. Whenever I'm in a situation where I have to endure physical pain and my mind have to work double time to come up with a lot of "what ifs" or "what can go wrong" scenarios, I can't help but sometimes, think of running away and just disappear, until I'm good to come back. But the thing is, I can't work up the courage to just do that, I mean, you know, run away. So, I stay. I put on a brave front and forge ahead, bearing in mind, that "this too shall pass".  And hoping that it does.

I am never really alone. I'm thankful for my sister, Mama and Rhea. 

Sometimes, I think about, how long can I keep this up? How long can my body keep up? And I'm not saying this because I'm being whiny or something. I just wonder if, when I get to the point where I'm tired of going through all these procedures and I decides that, I'm done with it. Will it be construed that I  give up already. I admit it, I often wonder what will be the end for me and I feel sad. Then I noticed the brown leaves on our driveway; the leafless trees along the way, when we went for a drive; the biting cold against my face, while I wait for the sunrise. Then it came to me, fall is here ( and eventually, winter ) and I'm still here, breathing and alive. Then I'm happy again.

Am I still grateful, you might ask? Hard to believe but I still am. I'm not thankful that I have cancer. But I'm thankful that I'm still here. I'm still thankful despite the frustrations, bursts of anger, uncertainties and the  sadness (  that suddenly just come out of nowhere). As a line from the movie goes, "I'm fine until I'm not. That's all there is to it." So, I will continue to go on about my day. I will treasure every "good" day and try to survive a "not-so-good" one. And look forward to Christmas, on the side. 😊

"Being grateful does not mean that everything is necessarily good. It just means that you can accept it as a gift." - Roy T. Bennett

Be alright. So, this is how it feels like.

The dust has settled. It has been months since I was diagnosed with cancer but it felt like a lifetime already. I have started chemo. I have adjusted, in a way, to my new life now. A life that is limited to doctor's appointments, cancer clinic visits, visits to the hospital for blood work and various test. A life that is now filled with uncertainty. I'm still not sure if I have accepted it yet. I do miss my old life--the life without cancer and full of possibilities. I miss going to work. I miss my hair.

I have tried to find meaning in my situation but I can't think of any. Because there's no meaning to it. I have cancer and eventually, will die.

I was at the point in my life where I thought everything was going well. Then the cancer blindsided me and everything changed. I feel like I'm put through the wringer every day. I lost a part of myself I can never get back. I feel like I'm holding my breath for whatever setback that comes my way while undergoing chemo.

Sometimes. it's hard to feel grateful. I'm more inclined to anger. But it's hard to ignore those moments that tells me that despite my situation, I still have a lot of things to be thankful for.

Every morning when I stir in bed, the remnants of sleep still in my eyes and I hear the birds outside, I say a silent thanks to God, for allowing me to still wake up and get to live another day. I'm thankful that I can still see the sunrise, if only from our kitchen window.

Always my favorite time of the day.

I'm thankful that my sister is here with me. She has front row seat on what I have to endure on chemo day and what it does to me in the days following. We both didn't sign up for this. I used to tell myself that I'm fine on my own, but on chemo day, I'm sure glad that she always accompany me.

I'm thankful for the prayers and healing thoughts that family, friends and acquaintances send my way.

I'm thankful that I have access to the public library---that I can get hold of great books that I want to read. I tell you, reading a good book ( especially a page-turner) is one way to keep your mind off things.

I'm thankful for the nurse, at the cancer clinic, who always fix my IV, with only just one poke. I guess, I'm always squeamish about needles. And I will always be scared of them.

I'm thankful for cable TV and Netflix ( especially grateful for the people, who let me use their Netflix accounts).

I'm thankful that I still laugh at some mundane joke, even if sometimes, my sister don't get it.

I've been told about miracles and all. The fact that I'm still here is a miracle. So, I really can't begrudge God because I have cancer and if He choose not to throw a miracle my way.

So, what I've been up to, you might ask? Nothing much, really. My previous  CT scan  showed that the cancer has not responded to the previous 3 cycles of chemo I had. So, the hair loss and icky feeling was all for naught. And I'm back to square one. I started a new protocol and it hit me hard. Nausea and vomiting are a common thing now. I don't feel like myself during chemo day and 3-4 days after. My appetite is shot and water tastes like crap. Its during this time, that I ask myself, if going through all this, is worth it. Then a week later, I feel okay again, that is, until the next chemo day.

I have started scrap booking. For some reason, it keeps me occupied and frees my mind from thinking about stuff. Besides, I want to finish whatever I have started while I still can.

Recently, I had to go to the ER to have a chest tube thoracostomy due to pneumothorax. My latest CT scan showed that my left lung has collapsed and wasn't really doing anything for me. Hence, the procedure. I was reluctant to go and even negotiated with my oncologist of not going to the ER right away. Anything to do with needles and such is uncomfortable for me, and sometimes, painful. For the first time, the thought of running away, entered my mind. But eventually, I went to the ER and acted like a normal adult. I'm thankful that my sister, Mama and Rhea are with me. I have this fear of going to the hospital---that I won't come out again, alive. I plan to hang around ( God willing ) for as long as I can.

I have made funeral arrangements for myself. So when the inevitable happens, my sister will not be left alone, to deal with the details.

Anyway, a lot has change for me but at the same time, some has not. I still get in trouble when I speak my mind. I get dismiss as being "negative"  or "you watch too much TV" when I voiced  out  my concerns. Sometimes, I wonder when people tells me to be strong or to be positive, are they in tune with reality. Or they're just being polite or something. But its fine with me, besides I don't mind at all, if I'm proven wrong.

On my good days, I still do what I love to do---read, watch TV, listen to music, work on my scrapbook, do "experiments" in the kitchen (when I feel up to it ) and just hang out. I try to live each day, the best I can.

I have no idea as to what the next few days or months has in store for me. Each day that I'm still around is a good enough reason to be grateful, even if I'm not doing anything special. I look forward to fall, I find that I'm more comfortable with the colder weather. I look forward to the first snow day. I'm sure no one will agree with me on this. For most people, they'd rather it be summer the whole year. Not for me though.

So, that's it for now, until the next post. And, of course, when I have more stuff to write about.🙂

I have cancer, now what?

It's surreal how one doctor's visit could change my life forever. I always try my best to never show my emotion or cry in public. But that day at the doctor's office, I cried. In between sobs, I learned about my dismal prognosis.

I have a terminal illness. I'd be lying if I say I have accepted it. I'm angry and frustrated. At the same time I'm sad and heartbroken. I'll never be cured, no matter what I do. I've read somewhere or heard someone say that a cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence. But to me it is.

"It is important not to "need" what you are calling to you but rather to have a certain detachment about it. Let it be all right if it doesn't come, or if it comes in a different form than what you expect. After you have asked for something, surrender to whatever comes as being appropriate." - Sanaya Roman & Duane Packer

I'm diagnosed with an incurable cancer. The oncologist gave me 1-2 years to live. And if I chose not to undergo chemo treatment, I will only have less than a year. Each passing day brings me closer to my "expiration date". Funny how that sounds. I'm not some canned goods or product on a shelf that gets thrown out when it reached or go past its "best before" date. I chose to undergo treatment. I mean, at least, I give it a try. For the sake of my family, especially my mother. Chemotherapy  is a double-edged sword. I'm basically poisoning my body with the hope of killing all those stupid cancer cells and stop them from spreading. The downside is I'm now vulnerable to a whole new world of complications. Either way, they're out there to get me. I once asked the oncologist what's the point of undergoing chemo treatment when I'm going to die anyway.

Plans were changed. My sister and I decided to go home. Our brief visit  was a welcome relief for me. For two weeks, I didn't have to think that I have cancer. Everything seems normal and life goes on. But when it came time to tell my mother, I find it difficult and heartbreaking. My mother is the most kind and selfless person I've known. And I didn't want to cause her grief with my situation.

I was raised to believe in God so as expected, I have these one-sided conversation with Him in my head. I even asked, why me? Did I mess up that bad to deserve this punishment? I think I'm being punish for whatever reason, I have no idea. Perhaps, I have not live my life as expected of me.

My life is not perfect. I am not perfect. But I love my life and I love being alive. Never once that I feel sorry or regretted being alive. And I'm always grateful for my parents for having me.  I think what's hard for me to accept is that I'll never go back to my old life--- I mean, my life without cancer. Eventually, I will depend on someone to help me. My quality of life will diminish. I'll never get to do the things that I still I want to do. ( Like, climb Mount Everest, okay, that's a joke. ) It tears me up when I think about this.

Sometimes, I think it was all just a bad dream. That somehow when I wake up the next morning, all is good. Then I glanced at my arm and see the needle mark and bruise, from my recent treatment. And I know its real.

So, what's next for me, you might ask? I'll try to still live each day.  I guess that's the only thing I can do now. I can't make plans anymore. Each day that I still get to wake up is a good day, I suppose.

"The most obvious thing might be an impulse to frantic activity: to " live life to its fullest", to travel, to dine, to achieve a host of neglected ambitions. Part of the cruelty of cancer, though, is not only it limits your time: it also limits your energy, vastly reducing the amount you can squeeze into a day. It is a tired hare who now races. And even if I had the energy, I prefer a more tortoise like approach. I plod, I ponder. Some days, I simply persist." - Paul Kalanithi