Oracle ✥ Artist ✥ Author ✥ Time Traveler

Some good news, and a long road ahead

long-road

This past Monday I had new scans. (Wait. Do I hear myself here? I’m talking cancerspeak. “New scans.” Ugh. Okay, here we go.)

I had a new MRI, to look inside my pretty brain. And I had a new CT scan, to look at my bodacious bod, or at least the weird lumpy parts inside it. Scan Day was long and involved two hospitals, a doctor visit, a ton of waiting on dubiously-clean chairs, two IVs, and a lot of walking down halls. My beloved was at my side the whole time, no easy feat for a man whose back had seized up and could only crawl just a few days before.

I’m getting ahead of myself. You want the results, don’t you?

NO NEW TUMORS.

That’s very good news. Incredibly awesome, magical, unheard-of news. Most people who have what I have die. There is no good medical chemo-type treatment that does more than buy people a few more months. There are doctors who think I should be dead by now.

But wait! There’s more!

EXISTING TUMORS ARE GETTING SMALLER.

Again, this does not happen. Yes, they see good results with the Gamma Knife radiation treatment I had for the two lesions in my brain, but as another doctor explained, zapping brain spots is like whacking cockroaches with a shoe. You get a few, sure, but there are thousands more that you can’t see and eventually they come out in the light. You can keep whacking and keep whacking, but unless you deal with the cockroaches systemically, eventually you get too tired to whack them anymore and everyone just says WTF and packs it in.

My radiation oncologist, who has bug-zapped countless people and is well regarded in her field, said the number of cancer patients she has seen who are healing the way I am is ZERO. Nada, nil, zilch, zed.

Take, that, cancer. Nyah.

It’s not over yet.

I’m still crazy-tired.

I had this idea in my head that if I had good scan results, people would think I was just, you know, normal now.  Like I can get up and run that marathon, or at least do my own juicing so my soulmate Kahuna doesn’t have to. I had the idea that people would point fingers at me and wonder what the hell is wrong with me that I’m still on the couch. Surely, if the cancer is receding, I can work now. Right?

That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

So not only am I still sick, still tired, and still hurting, but I am judging myself for being in that state.

Every day I push myself just to stand up. Ten zillion times a day, or whenever I need to drink a juice, pee from all the juice, eat something, wash a dish, pee again, or do an enema, I push myself to do it. My day is about trying to find an intricate balance between not-doing and doing-too-much. The line between these two states in unbelievably narrow. I still haven’t found it, because it changes every day, every hour, every minute.

But mostly I am exhausted. Every single damn day. This won’t be over for me for more than a year.

We need help. Lots of it. Now.

It’s a full time job to do the things that are keeping me alive. And note — that’s keeping me alive, not getting awesome. To get awesome*, we would have to do even more. Way more. But I’m exhausted from running all those marathons and Kahuna is doing his best but he has his own challenges. We can’t do this alone. We need help.

Pretty soon we’ll tell you what help we need and how you can contribute. I’m excited, because frankly, you rock. I soak up the love in each and every comment and note, and you have helped sustain me through some awfully dark times. I am so glad you’re on this journey with me.

*My definition of “awesome” =  Decades with my soulmate. Full, glowing health. Serving the world in some small way that lights my heart. 

12 Comments

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  1. Angelica Hesse

    I am soooo happy to hear this good news. It’s amazing and inspiring. And on to of it all, you’re blogging, which lets all of us share this incredible journey. Stay strong, and keep healing! Hugs to you both.

  2. Sonia Nordenson

    Waiting to hear what help you need, Bodacious. Meanwhile, no more picking on yourself! Just rest, rest, rest all you can. I love you and your Kahuna.

  3. Linda Wagner

    Be gentle with yourself and stay on the sunny side the way you always do! That was amazing news! Yay!

  4. Kess Baldwin

    So happy to hear this, Talyaa *tears* !!! Please let me know how I can help. You are in my thoughts and prayers every day.

  5. Janelle Hardy

    I am so happy to hear your news. Incredible. You’ll make it to awesome, I am certain.

  6. Theia

    Talyaa, you know the stars that we see in the sky ? The light was sent by the star long before we see it. will be with you: please keep putting each foot in front of the other: the starlight will be shining out in the future.. that is when you will see the work of today. So it may be with the scans: this is the time to re-dedicate to what you are doing, it seems! Much love, Theia.

  7. Kate I

    Feeling so much gratitude at hearing this wonderful news Talyaa! You’re surely moving step-by-step towards awesome.

  8. Kelly

    Talyaa, this is WONDERFUL!!! You are a walking miracle! Best of love and life.

  9. Shawn

    Smile for you.
    Shawn

  10. Tex buxton

    We’re out here when you need it. Remember, I had cancer 25 years ago. Nonhodgekins lymphoma. I I got thrown out of the Dr,s office for telling him I was getting better by changing my diet drastically. You can do this. Love Tex.

  11. Kathryn41

    Well done! I am so pleased with your good news! Of course you are feeling tired – you and your body are putting up a great fight – one that appears to be winning – but the battle isn’t over until it’s over. You are allowed to be tired. Really:-). Just keep taking it one step at a time until it becomes 2 steps at a time and then three.It may be a long road, but you’re headed in the right direction.
    love
    Kathryn

  12. Tina

    I’ve been following this closely and just have to say: Yay! Doing a happy dance for you here in Italy.

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