I’ve got a new tumour (with Ahnold accent)

So much for me writing every day!! That lasted what….4 or 5 days?  No one reads this on a regular basis anyway, and if they do I don’t know about it cuz no one is making any comments! Hello? It’s me - Lisa. Is anyone listening?

Yes, I have a new tumor. And I’m telling everyone about it on my blog. I’ve told a few people here and there over the last couple of weeks since we found out but don’t really feel the need to shout it from the roof tops. I can write about it here because if you’re reading this I think you likely do care or are interested in what goes through the mind of a frequent flyer in the “Cancer World”.

Back to my tumor. I have a brand new one! Isn’t that exciting??! (said with great sarcasm) This is cancer we’re talking about by the way. A new tumor that is TWO centimetres in size, and that’s fairly big for a new tumor. It’s in the lining around my liver. The great thing about this is that it’s not IN the liver. The wacky thing about it is there are NO other new tumors (I hate spelling it with a U..sorry) in my body and none of my many other metastases (cancer spots) have grown. Some have even shrunk. Makes no sense. Cancer doesn’t make sense. Why is it that even though I don’t have to go back into chemo that I’m kind of on the freaked-out side about TWO CENTIMETRES?!! Not quite an inch, but this is cancer we’re talking about here. I have new cancer in my body and I’m scared that this is the start of sliding down the slippery slope. Christmas and New Year’s is a hard time for me because I find it difficult to get excited about a ”new year” that may bring the spread of my cancer and possibly the end of my life. I’ve seen far too many friends die in less than a year who were perfectly fine one year earlier. It could be me. I could be next.

I’m being followed even more closely now with scans to keep an eye on things. If my medical team notices any new growth that they feel is the start of cancer progression, I’ll be tossed into chemo to try and kick it before it gets too wide-spread. I hate chemo (really Lisa?! No one likes chemo you selfish wench!). I don’t WANT to do chemo AGAIN. I did chemo once a week for six months. That was enough thank you very much! I shouldn’t bitch because many of my friends have been going through non-stop chemo for an extended period of time and I don’t want to be a baby. Everyone says I’m “so strong”, “so courageous”. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you might as well hear it from me. I AM NOT INVINCIBLE. I am NOT Wonder Woman. I’m just a cancer patient who happened to get very lucky. So lucky you can’t even fathom how lucky I am. Statistically I should have been dead about  seven years ago because the median survival rate for someone with cancer as widespread as mine is 2.5 years. I’m over 9 years.

I need support, but sometimes I really don’t need encouragement or anyone telling me that I’m “the strongest person they know”, that “you can do it”, or other ego boosting stuff like that. I’m just like YOU. I’m not made of some invincible material that will stop the cancer from ripping through it and winning the race.  I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been dealt and some days I wallow in my own self pity and sad thoughts about the reality of my life. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a very high, narrow cliff trying to keep my balance. I’m walking a tight rope made of 8 pound test fishing line that can’t possibly hold me for much longer. Tiny threads of hope that I cling to like string algae clings to everything in my backyard pond, billowing out with each wave. I’m hanging on desperately and not ready to fall into the cancer abyss I was once in. Somehow I got lucky way back then and scratched my way out of it, dragging myself away from the cancer that had taken all ten fingernails and turned them into throbbing blood-filled and useless shards that remained bandaged for well over six months after chemo ended.  

I’ve been sensing the dread of a new year for the last several weeks, but even more since I got the news of my new tumor. Some days I feel like I should send out announcement cards proclaiming “I’ve got a new tumor!” with the joy that people have at the arrival of a new baby. Trust me, there’s NO joy in hearing that you’ve got a new tumor. It means that maybe I’m not going to win this contest after all. I’m still in the ring but cancer could get a TKO after all. I’ve had my black eyes, bruises and broken bones over the last 9 years of this boxing match and I know I can take a lot more. I just don’t WANT TO! I’m being selfish and greedy,  but I would really like it if the cancer could just stay the way it has been and continue to live WITH me and not against me.

Right now I really would just love to throw myself down on the floor like a two year old and have the biggest temper tantrum ever witnessed on the face of this earth. The frustration builds up inside my control freak mind and many days I wish I could be like a toddler who can’t express themself in words so they just throw themselves down on the floor or stomp their feet and scream their lungs out, inconsolable until it’s all out of their system. The words that keep going through my mind, quite simply are: I DON’T WANT TO!!! I don’t want to go back into chemo. I DON’T WAAAANNNTT TOOOOOO!!

In the meantime I’ve got a couple months of freedom to enjoy life and then there will be more tests to see what’s going on inside this beat-up old cancer carcass. If you think I’m tense and freaked out now - just wait…