I've been quiet lately, partly because I've been in the mountains without a computer, partly because I've been busier than I thought posible, and partly just because I was trying, for a little while, at least, to have some normalcy and time away from cancer. So, I haven't blogged. I've taken a ton of pictures, I've read some lighthearted stuff, I've traveled with my husband, and I've tried to pretend that I'm a normal 33 year old, not a 33 year old who has cancer. Again. Still. Whatever.
I got to thinking about this, first about a week ago, but more so today. I was sitting here, on my front porch (which I adore!), and I realized that I have been identified in my medical records as a cancer patient since Aliceon started school. That, for half of my marriage now, I have been a cancer patient. That, for more of my children's lives than not, I have been a cancer patient. I have been engaged in this battle for as long as Heather can remember, and almost as long as Aliceon can. They don't recall a time when Mommy wasn't "sick" in some capacity. They have spent chunks of their lives sitting by me while I recover from this, that or the other medical treatment, all, in some way, related to this stupid cancer.
And it pisses me off. This is not what I wanted to bring them into. This is not what Hans signed on for. This is not what I signed on for. It's not fair.
Now I'm in another waiting session. I'm all calm and cool on the outside, pretending that everything's fine, pretending that I'm not worried, pretending that all is well. But it's not. My doctor - my local doctor - called me last Wednesday afternoon to discuss my ultrasound with me. She agrees that it's something that we need to be aggressive about, to the point that she suggested that we possibly do the biopsy here, sooner than my appointment at MD Anderson on June 25th, just in case. She agreed that vascular tissue is worrisome, and that it's something we don't want to play around with. She also decided to go ober my initial ultrasound she ordered again, just to make sure nothing was missed. Friday, while I was out of cellular range, she called me to tell me that she had looked at the ultrasound, and that there was "something [she] need to discuss with the radiologist." So I don't know if that means that they missed something initially in October, or if she just wants to be certain there was nothing there, but either way, if there was something then, the I-131 should have taken care of it and didn't.
But, of course, most people don't understand the fear and the worry and the waiting, so I'm back in my hiding pattern. Today is a perfect example - I have been nauseated all day. Now, I'm about 99% sure that it's psychosomatic, caused by stress, and the fact that I gave my body a chance to slow down. Instead of saying anything, though, I blamed it on something I ate, or told everyone I was fine.... Because that's what I do. I hide. I can't be weak. I can't be vulnerable.I can't need....