I felt more energetic today and was able to accomplish quite a bit. I even went grocery shopping with Steve. Tomorrow, I will meet with team members to see how Friday’s blood work looked, and to see what our next steps are. I am scheduled for a 2nd chemo treatment a week from tomorrow, but at least this time, I’ll know to expect to be sidelined for most of the week.
I am reading more information about lung cancer, and I’m angry that there is so little attention paid to it compared with other cancers that affect women (men, too, but I’m a woman.) The research dollar amounts spent on Lung Cancer are abysmally inadequate given that lung cancer is not generally diagnosed until it has already metastasized, and the survival rate hasn’t changed much in 40 years. Where are the “Race for the Cure” and the walks, and all the other fundraising efforts for lung cancer. Did you know that the ribbon color for lung cancer is white, or pearl; because it’s the ‘invisible’ cancer?
I am also angry that people assume that if you have lung cancer, you must be a smoker, and therefore it’s your own fault you got this terrible disease. This needs to change. Until we remove the stigma, people won’t want to give money for research. Nobody deserves cancer of any kind.
It also makes me sad that I have this terrible disease. There are days when it doesn’t seem possible; the doctors made a mistake; the X-ray is wrong; the C-T scan and the PET scan and the biopsy are all wrong; even though I know in my heart they aren’t wrong. I wrestle daily with this diagnosis, and I look for hopeful signs that the disease is waning. But there are no signs to see; it’s too early. And I dissolve into tears once again.
Our dogs know there is something wrong. Peanut, who normally isn’t affectionate, has been much more needy than usual. Spud has been glued to my side the whole time I am home; this isn’t that unusual, but he, too, is much more needy. Steve has taken over their feeding. Probably an overabundance of caution on our part as my immune system is still quite strong. But on the other hand, they need to be used to a different routine if I shouldn’t survive as long as I would like. Steve took Spud to the groomer yesterday so he and the groomers know each other.
I am doing what I can to make sure Steve and the dogs can manage without me even as I continue to fight. It is a strange dichotomy to prepare for one’s death but hoping it won’t be for a long while yet. I have told my sons what the odds are, but I’m not sure even I believe the poor survival rate.
I would like to sleep through this whole ordeal, but I know I can’t and it wouldn’t solve anything. So I will continue to fight through the tears…