Indifference

Sometime this past this past month, I past the 5 year anniversary of my diagnosis of Breast Cancer:  Honestly I don’t remember the exact date, although I have thought much about the past years. I experienced a range of emotions: relief, success, gratitude, paranoia and a lot of indifference.  That last one may seem a little strange to some.  I've talked to some of my friends, friends  like myself who were diagnosed  in the later stages of the disease but continue to live and they also feel this indifference.  

Indifference is probably the most difficult for many to understand. It grew just as that first diseased cell grew, quickly. It grew because of experiences, words spoken, friendships made, friendships broken, lives entwined.

I personally have hardened myself (and become indifferent) by comments made by people who over the years, thinking they know the disease.  They think by watching those tissue grabbing commercials, they have become medical experts.  They have from the beginning and to this day continue to diagnose and predict outcomes because of what they saw on television, read on the internet, or heard from a friend.   My disease is an individual as my fingerprint and therefore so is my prognosis.   If you haven’t read my medical chart you can’t possible know what my future holds.  Hold your tongue and be happy that I am here in this moment.  I am.

In the past 5 years, I have come to accept many things I may or may not see in my life time.  Much of this acceptance has come from those friends I have lost to the disease. Gratefully they have taught me many lessons, lessons that I cannot possibly make clear to you.   We sat for hours together in the Chemo Lounge, some with me for entire 2 years I spent in treatment; discussing our hopes and dreams. They taught  me how to appreciate life’s little victories, one gift at a time.  We reached out to each other, strangers turned friends by Cancer. 

I talk regularly to friends and acquaintances, who have been diagnosed with all forms of the disease; we are all living with the disease.  We all stand firm in our dislike of the term survivor, call us:  Managers of the disease. Every 6 months I challenge my Oncologist to a duel of words: redefine the term “survivor”.  A friend of mine living with the disease, tells him she feels like she is being “Stalked” by Cancer, (we share the same Oncologist)   He is stumped to define it better.

This week I questioned I questioned my Oncologist, “Now what and I do I dare ask that?”  He leaned in, looked me right in the eye and said “Why of course you dare.  Dare to ask or do anything you want.  The risk will always be there. When you are 85 you can stop looking over your shoulder.”  I scoffed, I understood, I know my prognosis.

I realize how lucky I am to be here. I will continue day to day, keeping up with the children, working, writing the darn book, the articles, riding my bike, supporting my favorite coffee chain and fixing my Feng Shui.  I will still keep dreaming of watching my youngest graduate from College (she is 8), taking that trip to Italy and  getting lost in an ancient  vineyard with my Significant Other.      And dream,  I will dream.

You can help support the fight for a cure by donating to the American Cancer Society or Relay for Life.

https://www.cancer.org/involved/donate/donateonlinenow/index?gclid=COPuhoC5yK8CFQTd4AodWkATbw

http://www.relayforlife.org/?gclid=CIjN8rO5yK8CFUGo4AodXy-xaQ

The Cat's 9 potions of Life

They say Cats have 9 lives.  I think Tiger (aka Fatty Cat) is getting close to his allotment. He continually tries his paw at getting into trouble and testing the age old theory.

He and his brother Shadow (aka Boo Boo Kitty) came into this world illegally.  The mama cat came to a vet clinic to be spayed in 1998.  When the owner was told the cat was full term with a litter, the owner replied that kittens were unwanted and ordered them to be put down.  The vet tech secretly delivered the kittens and brought them to my place of emplacement. A qualified student took the litter and bottle fed them for 5 weeks. I took the two males.  This is life 1 allowed for Tiger. 

After having Tiger for one week, he unknowingly followed me partially through a sliding glass door.  I shut the door on him.  I thought I had mortally injured the poor little kitty.  My neighbor, a Veterinarian, checked him out thoroughly.  He was fine.  This was life  number 2.

A some point in the next few years, Tiger was trapped for several hours in a wooden trunk, (life number 3) chased by my pet Rooster (life 4) , a 30 lb cat thinks he can chase and eat anything,  trapped on a farmhouse roof ( life 5), left in an abandon house by my ex for several weeks with only a bag of food, ( life 6) and several other little infractions:  chased by puppies,  mauled by toddlers, skydiving off  bunk beds. 

I even shipped him off to live with my oldest daughter last year to see if he could survive living with Lucy, the cat-hating dog.  Tiger tamed that dog into indifference. They glared at each other for months or maybe that was another life used.  (Number 7?)

Then again, yesterday I was going out the sliding glass doors.  Shutting them behind me without looking I heard a cat hiss and moan.  I turned to see Tiger squirming away and twitching his tail madly.  (life 8?)  You would think by now he would stay away from sliding glass doors. 

Regardless the number of lives this gigantic cat has used, he seems to be resilient.  He trudges on no matter the circumstances.  I say this as the collie chases him for the hundredth time this morning up the stairs.  He stops half way, to swat and smack her face:  Always defiant in the face of diversity.

Maybe I should collect that fur he leaves all over the house, bottle it up and sell it as a Magic Life Potion.  He may be on to something.

Warning Label: You will have a tendency to get trapped in sliding glass doors and glare at everyone.   MEOW!

nepb