I also have to talk about the pancreatic seminar and gala
last Saturday and Sunday. I was feeling
pretty optimistic and looking forward to learning a bit more at the seminar about
what’s happening to me and the surgery to come.
Dr. Picozzi, my doctor, whom I’ve learned is the rock star of doctors
specializing in pancreatic cancer, was the first doctor introduced to
speak. He didn’t pull any punches. He explained how the issue of pancreatic
cancer was pretty daunting business. I
know he spoke to me over the last few months about statistics and survival rates
but I don’t think I was listening closely. I just wanted him to hold my hand
and assure me he was going to fix me up.
But I listened closely that day to everything he said. This is what I heard:
·
Pancreatic cancer is the most difficult cancer
to treat
·
Only 15% of pancreatic cancer patients are
operable i.e. the other patents are either not operable because the blood
vessels are wrapped around the tumor or that the tumor is sitting too close to
the major blood vessels to allow access to the tumor. The latter is where I’m at, which is why I’ve
been undergoing chemo therapy the last 6 months to shrink the bastard. On the good side, my chemo treatment seems to
be winning this battle for me because the tumor is shrinking.
·
25% of all operations for pancreatic surgery are
successful in removing all the cancer. Shit!
I sat in my chair pretty straight backed, which is highly unusual
for me because slumped is my usual style while pretending to listen, but this time I wanted to take everything in;
to pay close attention. And all the
while, I felt ice creeping up my spine and wrapping around my heart; squeezing the
hell out of it. It hurt to breathe. Have
you ever felt such a gripping and immobilizing fear? I have, with Mom, and then Kenny, and again
with Dad; at just the very thought of losing them. And now it's with me again.
By the gala on Sunday, my mood had slipped into a ditch but I
was relieved my sister Vickie and my niece Tamara were attending the event with
me. We were sitting at a table outside
the dining room waiting for the doors to open, while enjoying hor dourves and
beverage, when I looked to my left and saw we are sitting next to the In Memory
Of Wall honoring all of those brave patients who didn’t survive, ah damn…my heart
sunk even further. Just great. I know
you’re asking, why we didn’t just move.
To be honest, with all my wallowing, I just didn’t have the energy to
find another table. I have to say it…I couldn’t help wondering if
my picture would be hanging up there next year.
I decided to forgo taking the group picture with the survivors, I just
didn’t feel like I’d earned the right yet.
Man I was frickin’ downing in the black sea (I’m prone to a bit of melodrama
at times, in case you haven’t figured that out already), but my sister and
niece were laughing at silly stuff like I usually do, and commenting on the beautiful attire of
the other guests, absorbed in the festivities around us in spite of my doldrums,
which acted as my anchor of sorts. I
wanted to laugh with them but I just couldn’t seem to find any humor in
anything at that moment. But they kept me grounded, cause at times I was just 2 seconds from running out into the halls and screaming at the top of my lungs, "Oh my God I have cancer!" Not cool.
I know I need to be more positive, but understand me when I say this: considering what most cancer patients are dealing with and the fact that they haven’t taken an emotional and mental dive head first off the nearest bridge, we are making every effort to be positive and realistic every day. You can be both you know and still be okay.
After the silent auction ended, the dining room opened and we found our seats right smack in the front like we were superstars or something. That was nice. Dr. Picozzi, was sitting at the table with Patrick Swayze’s wife, Lisa Swayze, who was our guest speaker. Pretty cool. My mood was starting to lift a bit. My friend and colleague Kris and her husband soon joined us and I have to admit, my mood immediately shifted to a more positive place. A short while later Dr. Picozzi stopped by our table and leaned forward to say, “You have inspired me. Would you mind if I repeated something you said to me in my speech.” Seriously? How on earth could I possibly inspire this man? Of course I told him I didn’t mind and was kind of curious as to what I could have said that would inspire anybody. I was crying me a river before he was even 5 minutes into the speech. He talked about my “Circle of Love” which is how one of my colleagues described the posse that seems to always be accompanying me to my chemo appointments. He spoke about how important it is to be supported by family and friends through the cancer journey. And it is a journey, no doubt about that. I was so touched and blessed that I had been referred to such an amazing doctor by my friend Kris, and then later bamboozled into having him as my second opinion by my dear friend and colleague, Deborah. Because my initial appointment had been with the University of Washington and after that one I was emotionally bereft and not looking to go over everything else again with another doctor. My “Circle of Love” are without a doubt my champions. So I left the pancreatic gala feeling so much more positive than when I got there.
If you have a family member that is going through hell right
now, please stand by them. Sometimes
they will not be on their best behavior and you will probably suffer for it, but
as hard as it is, don’t take it personally.
Because you love them so much, it will hurt you when they hurt. Unfortunately there is no way around this. On some days your loved one may say things about
that stuff down deep that resides with their fears, and pain, and sadness and
hopelessness…and you may feel yourself shutting down, and emotionally pulling away because let's face it, there is no pill to relieve the pain associated with watching someone go through this. Don't let it happen. This is what I felt and did when my brother was trying to talk to me about his impending death. I never verbalized that he shouldn't talk about it, I just shut down in my own way, but he knew. The thought of him dying was unbearable to me. I'm still adjusting to the painful reality I can't pick up a phone and hear his voice. Speaking soul deep does not take away from those times when they are more
upbeat or mean they are giving up…it just means that they are human and stuff unsaid can rot the gut if left unspoken. You may feel a strong desire to fix them by
tying a string of heartfelt words together for instance, don't say things like that, stay positive, try harder, don't give up -- random hallmark words that should be left on cards where they belong, because it is not always necessary that you provide feed back or what is needed.
Sometimes we just need you to listen. That’s all.
I’ve only just learned this myself.
Thanks for listening.
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