I found this rather poignant graffiti on a wall next to the train station in Jerez, just two days before this whole mess started, and I was moved to take a photo of it. At the time I sure never thought I’d end up using it on my blog in a personal way . . .
I had my appointment with Oncology this morning and was very grateful that Pipocas came with me. The 3 cm tumour they removed was malignant. I need to go for a thorax & abdominal CT scan next Wednesday (11th June) to see if I am ‘clean’.
Meanwhile, I have an appointment to start chemotherapy on 18th June. This would be the treatment in any case – whether the CT scan finds anything or not – but if I am not ‘clean’ then apparently the type of chemo I undergo will be different.
The best case scenario is that I’ll have eight sessions of chemo (every three weeks for six months) as a preventative measure against any reoccurrence. And I was told to stick with that scenario until the results from the CT scan come back. But I was also told that even this preventative chemo might make me so tired that I’ll only be able to work one week out of three, which of course only adds to my already precarious financial situation. Shit. I mean, I still don’t have enough rent money for June – how the hell am I going to live on 1/3 of my normal wages for six months? And that is if my students are willing to stick with a teacher who can’t commit to giving them regular classes.
And so . . . now it’s going to be another two weeks of waiting to find out if I am cancer-free or not.
That’s all I know.
casa azahar 
I don’t know what to say. I guess it’s all still a bit too close to home. I just wanted you to know that I care .
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Oh my god, Az. What a shock.
I’ll be thinking of you.
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Bugger!
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Anything I can think of to say sounds a bit trite.
Thinking of you, too.
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Oh No!
Thinking of you.
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Oh dear, Az.
I can relate to how you feel. Words fail me..
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Oh Az…
like big bad johnny says, anything written here won’t be the place to let you know…
but i hope you know anyway that i’m thinking of you and wishing you strength and courage.
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Wow az, I really feel for you. This news has hugely upset me. I’m terrified at the thought of getting cancer, and really don’t know how I’d deal with it. You really have my truest best wishes and love. And it’s so good you have nog.
I hope you find some way to come to terms and face it, and hopefully you’ll come through it ok. One of my aunts had a colonic tumour removed 5 years ago, and she’s still fine today.
I hope what I’ve written is okay. Like others have said, it’s very difficult to put these things into words.
Love Fanny.
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Although you can’t see this far ahead from where you are today, you will emerge on the other side of this. You will be stronger. I am changed because of my ride on the cancer-coaster. Although I wouldn’t have chosen to hop aboard if I’d had a choice, looking back I see that it brought me somewhere…
You are not alone on this ride. Find the positives. I guarantee you there will be a few amid all the dark and gnarly stuff.
Massive hugs from far away — and a shitload more to follow when i get there later this month!
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Wow. Just sitting here now, thinking of you.
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Oh az, I’m really sorry to hear the little bugger was malignant. I hope they let you jump up and down on it for a bit when they took it out?
But you’re a strong woman and you’ll get through the nasty weeks of chemo, and emerge having well and truly whooped that cancer’s arse. It picked the wrong dame!
And on the money situation, I know what a big stress that can be. Are there Cancer organisations in Spain which can help? And what about health insurance, will yours cover any bills while you’re undergoing the treatment? Or maybe you could speak to your landlord and work something out so you don’t have that extra to worry about? Surely they’d rather keep a good tenant in the long run than lose you over a few months of late or reduced payments?
Positivity from Oz to you. And let me know if I can help again.
Txx
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Words fail. I’m sending my best thoughts your way, and I’ll add some cash vibes to those, too — I know only too well that precarious feeling. And don’t take it as a given that chemo will knock you on your arse; some people are able to cope well by the third chemo or so.
Hugs, to you and da boyz.
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oh Az I’m so sorry. as spacecadette says, you may not respond badly to chemo. stephen tolerated it very well, a little tired but able to keep working and living a mostly normal life. his problem was they didn’t get it all but they found it early with you and your prognosis is good.
I’ll be seeing you in just over a couple of weeks. hang in there xxxxx
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Ah, don’t worry about “trite”, guys … I know how hard it is to respond to stuff like this. And just so you know, all of your responses have touched me very much. *hugs*
I think the worst part is being in limbo for another two weeks. There won’t actually be a prognosis until then and the type of chemo I undergo will depend on what the CT scan shows. So at this point I don’t actually know if they got it all or not yet.
I am really hoping that the best case scenario comes through. I reckon I’d be okay with “chemo light” and would probably be able to work most days. I just get scared about them finding something else and maybe needing more surgery, and then much stronger chemo. Apparently their main concern is the liver as this is the organ most commonly affected by colon cancer.
The weirdest thing about being in limbo is not being able to focus on things. I’m okay with simple distraction (reading, sleeping, watching dvd’s or tv) but it’s really hard to make plans and think ahead … I guess because what’s ahead is still so potentially frightening.
I’m still planning on going back to work on Monday. I’d really like to make up the 3 weeks of lost May classes this month so at least I’m not left owing my students on top of everything else.
Meanwhile, I’ve been getting out for walks every day and my belly wound is pretty much healed. It still aches and throbs sometimes, but it’s nothing like the pain I had the first week at home. I’m trying to stay positive about all this stuff, but it’s like there’s a black cloud hanging over me with the date June 18th written on it …
The cats are still doing a good job of making me smile even when I don’t feel like it. And it’s also nice to come here and see that you all have visited. Thanks everyone. 🙂
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big hug xxx
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Hi Az – I’m so sorry to hear that the tumor was malignant.
xoxo Dave
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Hey, I am so sorry to hear this news, my thoughts are with you and hoping for an all clean!
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Words fail me. As soon as I get my bills paid this month I will be sending you some more money. This is the kind of giving I can relate to — one on one helping someone who absolutely deserves help, no administrative board sucking away my dollars, no mass mailings on a weekly basis doing the same. Just my “extra” sent to a person who needs some of it. Perhaps my acquisition of shrubs and other garden plants may be delayed; perhaps a greenhouse won’t be built as soon as I’d like. So what? Those sorts of “sacrifices” pale in comparison to what you are going through.
Chemotherapy can be devastating, or it can be uncomfortable. I have known several people who made it through with a minimum of illness. I am visualizing this for you, azahar.
I remember how unhappy you were with how much weight you had gained, and how much you wanted to lose it. It is my understanding that pain, surgery, and chemo are all great weight loss precipators, and you are already reaping the “benefits” of them. . . Be careful what you wish for really hard! You are apt to find out that the universe will provide it for you and not always in the way you anticipated!
Sending you love and thoughts, visualizing your body cancer free and minimal disruption to your life by the chemo.
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Argh! Preciptators!
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yep, I get paid on the 15th so I’ll send some more then – I’ll only spend it on chocolate and books otherwise and my teeth and waistline will thank me for the swap! 🙂
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Please don’t deny yourself garden plants and books on my account, guys. I have to admit that I am still buying myself a book every couple of weeks (in between rereading stuff from my library) – my one luxury.
Yeah, I’m also hoping that the chemo won’t knock me out as I’m going to seriously have to get back to working full-time in September. Time will tell …
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Az, I’d no idea until someone mentioned your situation today. The ice any of us skate on is so fucking thin.
Just to say that I wish you and Nog well, it’s tough on both of you in such very different ways.
Aphra.
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First: I’m so sorry you’ve been ill and have chemo to “look forward to.” Oh, it’s a cavalcade of delights but you’re stronger than it is, no question, and you have the support of everyone here and, of course, nog.
No-one on Earth can predict an individual’s reaction to chemo; it’s a startlingly variable thing. You may be able to work almost a full load; I know people who hardly cut back at all. I, on the other hand, took a year off and didn’t regret my choice for a second. Some people lose weight; I gained thirty pounds. It’s all completely individual.
But it is a PIA not knowing how to make plans in advance.
If I may get didactic and practical: stock up on tv dinners, canned foods, and treats. You will probably become oversensitive to things like garlic and have better things to do with your vitality than fix proper meals. It doesn’t really matter. I lived off of one tv dinner and one cup of cocoa with ground hazelnuts dissolved in it. Take a multivitamin with minerals, eat your bland food, and don’t worry about it. If you like smoothies, have those, either veggie (spinach is great) or fruit, with tofu, with ice cream, or with ice tea for some zip.
The one thing I will tell you that is a universal experience is that afterwards, your hair is better!
You know you have my best wishes, and you have my email too, if you want to ask any questions.
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“But it is a PIA not knowing how to make plans in advance.”
Thanks for the advice, Rain, and you’re right about the not being able to make plans thing. It’s so frustrating.
I’m hoping to work part-time in July (if I can) and then take August off. Not really a choice since I never have students in August anyhow. But I’m really hoping I can get back to work in September. Which should be possible if I just have to go on the “chemo light”. Apparently you don’t even lose your hair with that one.
Meanwhile, I’m still in limbo for another week or two before I’ll know exactly what sort of treatment I’ll need. Then I’ll get more practical about stocking my cupboards, etc. and quite possibly get in touch by email. *hug*
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