My medical leave officially starts on Friday, but tomorrow I have to report to the hospital in the morning to have my port installed. They use a local in combination with a twilight drug, so I can’t go back to the office after the procedure is completed. Today was my last day in the office.
It was bittersweet. I received flowers and a box of chocolates from the company, and some really nice cards. My boss said I had to eat the chocolates, I could not leave them behind for him. I keep my boss supplied in dark chocolate. Even told him I’d send my husband down from time to time with a resupply.
As the girls in the office started leaving for the day, the would stop by my office to give me a final hug good bye and reaffirm their faith in me to kick cancers ass.
They all know I am still going to be helping as I can from home, mostly helping with research on issues and systems maintenance. But it was so heartwarming to have them all go out of their way to wish me well and add their words of encouragement to the battle ahead.
I am so thankful for the people I work with. I know I have been blessed in this area. I cannot even imagine being able to do this without their support and the constant reminding me that I am strong and can do this. They are a fantastic group of people and I love working with all of them.
I arrived home to find a Cancer care box had been delivered courtesy of my cousin. She purchased it through Choose Hope. It included a T-Shift, soft blanket, and warm fuzzy socks, a water bottle, a note book, a magnet with the a reminder of what Cancer Cannot Do, hand sanitizer, moisturizer and lip balm and all with a tote bag to carry it all to Chemo treatments.
On top of that, she told the family how to order personalized shirts to reflect their support of me through the Komen Foundation.
If I have to do this, at least I know I have the support of so many! My family is great at this, so supportive and keeping spirits up. Getting in with their sleeves rolled up to do what needs to be done. And then there all the wonderful people I’ve met over the years, between work and Ren Faire. I have made some really great friends and all of them have been and continue to be so supportive.
I am feeling more in control the closer I get to treatment starting next Tuesday. I am grateful every day for all the wonderful people in my life that are rallying around me to cheer me on and help keep me strong through this process.
Between all these wonderful people, my husband and my kids, I will make it through this metamorphosis and be something beautiful on the other side.
Speaking of husband, he had previously decorated our bathroom mirror with my daily reminder that this is treatable, curable, survivable and temporary.
Life is moving forward.
I have just finished reading every word of your blog. You have really poured your heart out in a beautiful and moving way. Every imaginable feeling and reaction has come over me as I read all of this, but mostly I felt sad that you are having to go through this ordeal and that you have been so frightened much of the time. Of course, I knew that you had a lot of anxiety; I do to. But you have seemed so positive in our conversations and your emails and FaceBook posts, the level of yours has taken me a bit by surprise, although I should have known you were trying to push it back as you so ably described in your blog. I still haven’t been able to let loose with tears, something I once was prone to do at the drop of a hat. I haven’t been able to have a really good cry since before Papa Wisnia died and I feel a huge buildup inside of me. I wonder what, if anything, will ever make that dam break.
Your conversation with Robert about what each of you wants for final arrangements for yourselves is good and healthy. I’m glad you have done that. You can assure Robert that he won’t have a fight with me or need to tell me to F-off. In spite of how I felt about cremation, I honored Nane’s wishes for the disposition of her remains. I will certainly honor your desire for the type of service and burial you have chosen. I certainly hope I don’t have to live through that, however. I want you to beat this horrific disease and live a long life, enjoying your children and grandchildren (I certainly hope there will be more of them). Hopefully, you will be tasked with making sure my wishes for final arrangements are carried out long before anyone needs to think about yours.
I am keeping a positive outlook on this whole situation and believing what your docs have said, treatable, curable, temporary, etc. The fear and anxiety that are curling around inside are much like yours; however, I’m not going to let them replace the trust I have that your medical team is right and that you will come out the other end just fine. I love you so much, my daughter. Keep fighting.
Despite all the fear and anxiety, I too am keeping a positive outlook. It’s all going to be OK.