the other side

I have turned the corner, rounded the bend, I am closer to the other side of the river......the end of chemo is almost here, and it feels goooooooooooooooood.  The past couple weeks have been (dare I say it?) *good*.  It's been good physically (no pain in the last round after chemo!) but the best part is that it has been good emotionally too.  I can't remember the last time I have had a dark moment.  The dark moments used to be very common in the beginning, hiding in the shadows, ready to leap out at the first sign of physical pain or trauma.  Just yesterday Bob asked me if I ever had thoughts of recurrence.  You bethca.  That's all those dark moments were.  It wasn't the thought that I couldn't get through this round....it was the thought that there might be another round.  Or *gulp* worse.....that I wouldn't make it through another round.  That is the darkest moment.  And yes I visited that place, fairly regularly, in the first few months.  Would I see Thomas learn how to ride a bike?  Learn how to drive a car?  Be able to hold his babies?  Because as positive as we all are that YES we are getting it all out and YES this was the right decision to go through this crazy intense pain they call chemo, after it is all said and done - chemo and radiation and then 5 years of drugs....they still can't give me a 0% recurrence rate.  The scariest part is that the only numbers they can give me only go ten years out.  Ten years?!  Ten years from now Thomas is just getting braces.  Ten years from now Thomas is just starting middle school.  That's not far enough out for me.  But because I am so young and cancer is not common in your 30s, they just don't have numbers for what happens to people like me 20, 30, 40, 50 years from now.  And sorry, but I was kinda planning on being here 50 years from now. 

Now, I know what you are thinking...no one has a guarantee for another 50 years.  You could get hit by a bus tomorrow; collapse from an unknown heart arrhythmia; trip and fall and hit your head.  But do you actually think about those things?  Do those things keep you up at night?  If they do, then you are on the same side of the glass as me - the other side.  I didn't used to be on the other side of the glass.  I used to think that life was fair and things happened for a reason.  And yes, I had my share of shitty things happen to me....broken heart, losing a job, betrayal of a good friend.  But those are the normal shitty things in life.  At the time you feel like your life is over...but then you start to heal and reflect and realize that better things came out of those tough times.  But once you get news that YOU have cancer, and it's invasive and you have a high risk of recurrence......swooooooosh, all the sudden you are on the other side of the glass, nose pressed up, looking over to the side that you used to be on.....where bad things like that didn't happen.

I know a few people on the other side of the glass with me.  They lost people in their lives, important important people, when it was far too early to lose them.  On this side of the glass we know that life isn't fair.  Monsters exist.  And sometimes really shitty things happen to good people.  For no reason.  And for those of you that will say - oh you will find the silver lining on why cancer happened to you!  I am sorry, but no I will probably not.  I was not one of those people that didn't appreciate life.  I was one of those people that appreciated every moment of my wonderful life and my loving husband and my awesome family and my healthy baby.....and even small moments like a wonderful sunset or time alone in the car on the commute to catch up with friends over the phone.  I was a glass half full kind of girl.  But this cancer....even if it doesn't come back, the permanent damage I am doing to my body right now....the only silver lining there is that at least we are trying to make sure it doesn't come back.  Chemo is very toxic....so toxic that the exact chemo I am getting, even if cancer comes back, they won't give me this exact chemo again because it would actually do more damage than good.  That is what we are doing right now....trying to kill as much cancer as possible without too much permanent damage to my body (mostly my heart). 

I don't love being on this side of the glass.  I wish I didn't know that monsters exist and dark moments are hiding in every shadow.  But for NOW for TODAY I am in the sun, no dark moment is lurking.  I am feeling strong....I am feeling happy....and I am hopefully hopefully hopefully one Dr's visit away from never having chemo again.

There is still hope and love and happiness and good moments on this side.  Some days it's harder to find.  But it's there.  And it feels just as good when you find it....maybe even better than it did before.  It feels precious.

I had a lot of good moments these past couple weeks.  My good friend came up to visit me from San Francisco.  She arrived last Thursday...and I was so scared because on Tuesday and Wednesday I was so so so tired and getting more tired by the day.  What is happening?! I am supposed to feel BETTER as the days pass...not more tired.  Both Bob and my Mom told me to take the steroids but I felt like that would just give me a false sense of energy.  But then Thursday came, I was freaked that I would be too tired for the visit, so I took them in the morning.  And the visit ended up energizing me so much that I didn't need to take them again and felt great the entire time!  We went to the beach (of course) and it was 80 degrees...at the beach.  This is rare...like once a year rare.  We couldn't have planned it better.

Two days ago we spent the day at a golf tournament to raise money for cancer research.  My cousin runs a non-profit (http://parforlife.org/) that funds prostate cancer research.  Cancer has been a big part of our families lives unfortunately.  My uncle, his father, passed away from a long battle with prostate cancer 2 years ago.  My cousin has run this non-profit ever since, which joins his love for golf with raising money for prostate cancer research.  My uncle had started this particular tournament after his diagnosis with prostate cancer and we have attended every year.  For the last few years, while living in San Francisco, Bob and I would fly up to play (or while I had Thomas, just volunteer to help).  It's a fun event and one that we look forward to every year. 

This year "our team" for golf was my dad, Bob, my brother and my soon to be brother in law (my sister's fiance).  My mom, my sister and I showed up to volunteer and help (although I will admit we didn't too all that much except drink ice tea in the country club!).  My sister did the flowers (you can see her past flower arrangements and all her worldly talent at her blog! http://ahousemouse.blogspot.com)  It was a fun day.  We hung out as the boys golfed, which is followed by cocktail hour then a dinner.  This year was different because it was linked up with a ladies group from the golf club (called "In the Pink") to combine raising money for both prostate cancer and breast cancer.  So of course, when I showed up, bald, all the ladies from In the Pink were all over me....and were so sweet and gracious and told me that they loved seeing me because this is why they work so hard to raise money.

At one point, before the boys were back from the round, before the cocktail hour, one of the ladies in the pink said she wanted me to meet someone.  I assumed she wanted me to meet one of the doctors that they raise money for.  But when she introduced me, it was the auctioneer for the live auction that night.  Uh oh....I saw where this was going.  They want to raise a lot of money (of course!) and here I am - bald - and wearing a flashing neon sign that says I have breast cancer.  So the auctioneer starts explaining how the live auction is going to work tonight during dinner and how they want to raise as much money as possible.  Uh huh.  And how in one part of the program they ask all the cancer survivors to stand up so that everyone can see how many people cancer affects.  Uh huh.  And then that is when the big money donations start....and would you mind saying "who would like to start the bidding at one thousand dollars!".  Uh uh.  Sorry I had to turn it down.  First of all, I don't love public speaking.  Never have.  But public speaking while bald?  I mean, I know I may seem all brave going out into the public bald, but I am not one to try and draw attention to myself while doing this.  It just wasn't happening.  The auctioneer was very sweet, and of course sweetly asked again if I would speak at all.  Uh uh.  Sorry.  But I did say, well if you want to, you can point me out to try and get more money...but I really don't want to talk. 

So the night goes on, first cocktail hour, then dinner.  The live auction starts.  I start to get a tiny bit nervous (what did I just open myself up to? what is this guy gonna say?).  But about an hour goes by into the auction and I start to relax a little more.  Then the auctioneer says that he wants to acknowledge someone special, someone who is going through treatment right now.  (GULP)  Is Molly here?  I raise my hand.  He is very sweet and talks a little bit about how life is a circle, how my Uncle Tom passed away and now I have a son named after him (this is all kinda a blur, I can't remember what else he was saying because at this point everyone in the room is staring at me which is a little intense and I just have a smile pasted on my face which I am hoping looks genuine and not deer in headlights).  And then....he asks everyone to give me a round of applause for going through treatment and still coming out today (or something like that.  again, kinda a blur).  So people start to clap, and then some people start to get up, and then before you know everyone in the room is standing up and cheering and clapping and saying words of encouragement and every eye I meet is full of warmth and love and wow......it was overwhelming in a totally good way.  There were about 200 people there all standing and sending me the most positive loving energy.  I didn't even know what to do.  I wanted to cry (I held back, not a big public crier), I wanted to go around and hug everyone, but I just sat there and soaked it all in (I will admit, I felt a little paralyzed).  It was a wonderful loving moment, one that I definitely would not have chosen since did I mention before I hate being the center of attention? But nonetheless, a wonderful moment where I felt special and really really good.  So now I pretty much know what it feels like to get a standing ovation at the Oscars for the lifetime achievement awards.  I swear it felt like that.  And all I did was go through chemo....

And to continue the good moments from this past week.....last night we went to an old friends house for a BBQ.  She was one of my BFFs in high school & college and we had lost touch with each other over the last 12 years.  I have missed her and thought about her often and I am so happy that we are back in touch.  We sat in their backyard, on an amazingly warm night, the kids rolled around and played in the grass and dipped in the kiddie pool.  The adults sat around and drank and laughed and told stories.  It was so normal and fun and nice.  And the perfect way to spend chemo eve.

Oh yeah, did I mention?  LAST. CHEMO. (I'm going to go ahead and say) EVER. in just a couple hours.  Wish me luck.....