Just For Today

I changed all my doctors to Virginia Mason so they’d all be on the same page with respect to my health history.  My first appointment with my new primary doctor was on Tuesday; she was very kind but the appointment wasn’t consistent with my previous physicals i.e. pap smear, breast exam – setting up appointment for colonoscopy, which I have every five years and five year mark has become due.  She talked to me about how I was dealing with cancer, and depression – I wanted to tell her I was feeling a bit of depression coming over me now the longer she spoke but I didn’t.  I told her I wasn't ready to take a nose dive off the nearest bridge so considering I wasn't doing so bad.  She jotted something down on her little pad -- probably something like patient may be considering jumping off a bridge at some point. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd have asked me to lay back on the proverbial couch and talk about my childhood.  My inside voice was screaming, When is the physical going to start! After a few more intrusive questions to establish some kind of intimacy on her part with me I asked if I was actually going to have the usual physical and screenings, and she said,

“There is no reason to put you through any additional cancer screenings at this time considering your overall health situation.” Um okay. And I have a new primary care provider why?

My mind did its usual brain freeze due to fear sneaking up. Finally I opened my mouth to speak, hoping it was without the voice quiver that I detest.  “So, um, if this chemo treatment I’m currently on kills the cancer cells spread by the original site in my pancreas will they be removing the tumor in my breast at any time down the road?

New primary care doctor said, “I don’t really anticipate them putting your body through that.  I mean what would be the point.” The point?  To remove the cancer from my body is the point.  But I didn’t say that.  I totally got what she was saying, just didn’t want to accept it.  These days the realities of my situation are just not warm and fuzzy enough for me.    

After the long bus ride from Seattle, I walked into the condo and went straight for my room.  I undressed got into my bed then opened my mouth as wide as I could and screamed as loud as I could without any sound whatsoever being exhaled.  We have children in the building and of course I didn't want to be known as the crazy woman in D3.  So that discussion with my new primary care provider and my quiet breakdown in the privacy of my bedroom, took place on Tuesday.

My sister always seems to know when something’s gone south and the next day she got me a card.  I’d like to share it with you.

Just for today –

Do the things you like the best, ignore the routine.

Put your troubles to rest.

Just for today –

Make a wish, make a plan. Close your eyes. Dream a Dream. Believe that you can.

Just for today –

Laugh out loud. Sing a song. Be assertive. Be silly. Be happy. Be strong

Just for today –

Do it all once, and then if you like it…

Tomorrow, do it all once again!

Sometimes it’s easiest just to think about

One day at a time!

Yesterday I was mentally ready to return to my chemo chair – mentally ready but by no means enthusiastic. Dr. Picozzi came in about 9:00 a.m. to give me the 411 on my blood work and he was happy everything looked good.  I talked to him about my appointment with my new primary care provider and he relayed the same things she said but with a less invasive delivery.  “We can’t allow anything to interfere with your treatment for pancreatic cancer.  Right now it trumps everything else.”  Okay got it.  I think.  I did feel better though.  For now.

But I have to tell you that on Thursday I decided to have my Just For Today moment.  I took myself to the casino, which is a place I haven’t visited in quite a while because the casino has not been good to me in the past.  But guess what?  I won a $1,200 jackpot on the nickel machine.  Whahooey!  The day before I put my beloved 2001 Dodge Durango in the shop for some serious repairs; it had been parked until I could come up with the cash to get it fixed.  I love my Durango because it belonged to my dad.  Backing that big thing up makes me smile because it sounds like a quiet bus with some serious mojo.  It comforts me and I'm just not ready to turn it in for something else.  Not at this time in my life.  So anyway, the next day while I was sitting in my chemo chair feeling crappy over the infusion I get a call from my mechanic, who I was sure was going to tell me the repair work on my car was going to cost ridiculous.  Ok guess how much?  Go ahead and guess.  Okay I'll tell you. They gave me a quote between $1,100 and $1,200.  Tell me that ain’t angels looking over my shoulders. 

Sending good thoughts to all of you as you go through you own challenges and wishing you wellness and happiness throughout the holiday season and in the years to come!


“Man can live about forty days without food, about three days without water, about eight minutes without air, but only for one second without hope” - Hal Lindsey