We have a surgery date!
I reached over and squeezed Marc’s hand while at the same time glancing at my Mom sitting close-by in the small room. She was sitting upright on the edge of her chair, ankles crossed with her right hand clasping her left wrist while the hand held a small notepad where a list of questions scrolled on page after page in her script-style handwriting that I’ve admired since childhood. I followed her gaze across the room to my doctor where we all looked now, waiting. After a long conversation explaining all of the scans and tests I had completed in the last 4 months since we saw him last he was turned away from us looking at his computer, scouring his calendar for a date. THE DATE we have all been waiting for….a surgery date.
I honestly didn’t think we would walk away from this last meeting with an actual date. But, here we sat in the final moments of waiting to learn what exact moment in time will change our lives — for a chunk of time at least. As Dr. M hummed this and that almost under his breath as he looked, I couldn’t help but think about time in general and how we allow it to dictate our lives and stress us out even though it’s a concept we as humans have developed to manage things better. Animals don’t worry about time. Sun up and sun down is about as complicated as it gets for them. They don’t know how old they are in comparison to the average lifespan for their species. Time is actually my number one trigger for stress. Running late can cause my bubbly, positive personality to shift in a way I’m not always proud of.
I was woken from my reverie by the doctor’s triumphant exclamation, “ December 10th!” With my hands back in my own lap, the fingers of my right hand absentmindedly traced the place where my wedding and engagement rings should be on my left. I recently had to have them cut off in preparation for all of this. The skin was indented from wearing the rings day-in and day-out even though they didn’t fit for years past the point where I could remove them on my own.
I couldn’t help but feel a little surprised and disappointed by the date in the first moment. We had talked about November…and I am SO done with this thing. But, Dr. M didn’t skip a beat. He keep talking: “ You’ll want to spend Thanksgiving with your family…and we’ll want to get you home for Christmas of course…” Before this declaration, in the hums under his breath while he looked, I had caught snippets of: “away that week…nothing before then…” So, I understood without asking that this was the earliest date he had available. This is what happens when your surgeon is one of the best!
I quietly admired his people skills making this “non-choice” sound like it was not only what we would have chosen on our own but also a lucky break to be able to spend the holidays together. This amount of skill in both his profession/specialty combined with the ability to present this information in such a way as to make us feel good about it, was telling of his years of experience having this meeting with countless others. I felt good about it and hoped everyone else did too as my eyes darted back and forth between Marc and Mom who gave me nothing in their expressions.
Dr. M twirled around in his swivel chair and slapped his knee moving onto a final round of “What questions do you have?” I let out a huge breath and smiled back at him in relief despite my initial disappointment for finally having this one piece of information I had been craving these past 4 months. I allowed myself to be gently steered towards this feeling and even allowed my rigid posture to loosen a bit. Let the countdown begin!
You know, before all of this, I honestly knew nothing about cancer. I am still quite ignorant but if I think back to a few years ago, 5 to be specific, I remember making a post about the 5 friends and relatives I knew with cancer at the time. I was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of people I knew with cancer. I literally knew nothing of what they were going through. I had no way of relating to them, feeling for them, or how to reach out to show my concern and care. So, I created a piece of artwork in their honor…it was all I knew to do. I was too scared I would say the wrong thing or reveal my ignorance if I tried calling or asking them questions about their disease or treatment so I just didn’t say…anything. I really regret that now. Only 3 of 5 are still alive today. One who passed, a very close family friend (like an uncle to me), passed away with that piece of artwork I created that day on his dresser. He looked at it every day and found strength in it. I had no idea until afterwards when his wife told me.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: Even though we don’t know if I actually have cancer yet, If you don’t know much about what I’m going through, its okay. Don’t feel like you need to comment or contact me. Sometimes you just have to reach out in your own way, like I did. I did what felt right in my heart at the time. I may regret not contacting and saying something personally and pointedly but I did reach them and showed my love and support in my own way. And, that’s okay.
If you’re the type of person like me and so many others who really wants to help and support but doesn’t know where to start or what would truly help, my sister Katie set up a Meal Train for our family to help get us through the first 6 weeks. She created ways for anyone to help, near or far. If you want to help out, I’ll post the link below:
It’s also posted in my Instagram link and I’ll also post it on my personal Facebook page as well. Just know that we appreciate any show of support whether it’s reaching out to ask questions and share words of support, through the link with meals & gift cards or in your own special way. This experience, while scary and stressful, has allowed me to feel the interconnectedness of our world and has opened my eyes even more to just how similar we all are no matter what we are all dealing with in our own tiny, little worlds. It has given me a drive and desire to do more and be more with whatever time I have left in this world…hopefully many MANY more years to come. I don’t know what exactly that means yet but I feel like things might just be changing around here.
I’m still closed to new bookings for now but I do plan to open back up after the New Year to fill in the last few openings I have for 2022. My doctor assured me I should be 100% back to myself by early spring. The type of cancer I might have (Liposarcoma) typically grows very slowly and does not spread (why I have been able to wait this long for surgery). But, it does “come back.” And, unfortunately does not respond to chemotherapy or radiation very well so surgery is really the only treatment option. For that reason, If it turns out to be liposarcoma, I will need to have MRI’s every 6 months pretty much forever. I’ll surely not be booking myself up so tightly anymore.
Before all of this, being a “self-improvement junkie” after much trauma in my life, I always kind of wished I could have a near death experience to give me the perspective people talk of when they have those. It’s funny how the expectation and reality of these types of things is so true and so far from reality at the same time. I expected to have more clarity for what is important to me — this definitely happened as expected. I have learned even more so what is truly important and what is not in my life. I have let go of a few toxic relationships that I have held onto for the better part of 30 years and learned that there is much joy in the simple things.
What I didn’t expect was my attention to the in-between moments. Needing to wash the dishes and scrub the toilets in-between the doctor’s appointments and test results. In my futuristic vision of what a near death experience would give me I pictured traveling, doing amazing things, talking with the people who matter to me, reading. I envisioned doing all those sexy, beautiful things that I’ve had on my bucket list in the back of my mind. The reality is that I still need to pay the bills, go to work, wash the dishes, comb the knots out of the kid’s hair, help with homework, sweep the floor and scrub those darn toilets.
The beautiful reality that I wasn’t expecting is that there is a new appreciation for doing all of those things…even the toilets in a house with 4 boys. The “bucket list” kind of became unimportant as I realized that the magic is in the daily grind privileges of simply being alive and having a family and friends to care for, having a husband’s hand to squeeze and a mom’s reaction to worry over in the doctor’s office, figuring out how to tell the little kids so they don’t get overly scared, and how to include the older kids so they understand and feel included while allowing life — beautiful life — to continue to go on. To let that carousel turn round and round and appreciate each turn — even the ugly parts — that is the lesson. And, you don’t really need to have a near death experience or a cancer diagnosis to experience that feeling.
So, next time you are grumbling over scrubbing the toilet or cleaning up after the kids again, remember: the magic is being able to appreciate that you get to do those things. Once you can get there — even sometimes — you will feel the magic of life. Don’t live for Friday or the vacation. Live for this moment right here, right now.
Go make it a great day and if you want to help out here’s the link again:
We appreciate you so very much!
XO - Megan