"I'm caught,
somewhere in between alive
and living a dream.
No peace."
somewhere in between alive
and living a dream.
No peace."
I don't know where to begin. I guess I will start with the facts, and then move into the reality...or how i perceive it. So, everything begins Tuesday July 8th - well, kinda. I flew back from Austin the day before....spent some time with some friends. Actually, ha, I started this blog on that Tuesday. If you look at the old blogs...you will see nothing was "wrong" per se, just uneasiness and general melancholy.
I had a doctor's appointment, following up on medicine/hormone stuff after my surgery in March, and my doctor decided that since I was up for my annual in a month and a half or so, it would be silly to come back - so I had it then. Just the usual follow-ups expected with my previous surgery, and she said verbatim - "I don't see anything to worry about, I don't know why you keep getting these same results." (Note: I have been at some level of at least mild dysplasia since I was like...17). Anyways, I drive back to Memphis that day and get on with my life, not particularly worried about the tests and only slightly concerned with my upcoming dermatology appointment to remove what appears to be a benign mole (little bit of concern since my younger brother has already had skin cancer and this mole showed up after a bad sunburn in greece, but moving on).
Jump ahead one week. Tuesday July 15th. Just after lunch. I had already updated my blog, checked my e-mail, myspace, facebook, livejournal a couple dozen times and had no work to do so I'm just laying down on the couch in Kent's office reading Middlesex and chatting with Ongeleigh about tattoos to pass the time. Kent gets back from his meeting so I go back to mindless internet surfing on my computer. Then, in quick succession, I receive two e-mails notifying me that Alandra had lost her battle with cancer the day before. I am heart-broken. I can't say I was extremely close to her, or that we hung out more often than I do with most people on campus, but I adored her. She was always the one to stay after chapter or sisterhood events and help clean-up...going the extra mile even when no one asked. Her sarcasm made her feel like a kindred spirit and we did have some good times. She was so open, so direct, it almost makes me feel guilty to be so upset about losing her - I know she would have something witty to say that would make me feel like an idiot for being so sappy right now. We spent hours together last summer working on inane decorations for bid day, joking around and laughing more than working most of the time. And my last real, personal memory of her was at St. Jude day at Chili's - we all went to the Chili's out in Madison and I showed up late and squeezed in at the booth with her and a few others. The girls at the booth were enjoying their margaritas and laughing about getting drunk to save lives, and making lewd inappropriate jokes....and talking about certain online purchases they were anticipating the arrival of. There was nothing but honesty with Alandra, and I will miss her. I was afraid to keep in touch with her, which I truly regret, not only because I was afraid to get to close to anyone, but I was particularly afraid of getting closer with her.
Beyond grief, loss, extreme sadness....i felt so selfish. I was afraid, I was panicked. Alandra is the fifth person I have known to have died that I considered myself close to, and it still hasn't gotten easier. With her...and Jordy...this summer has been a time of beginnings and ends. I'm just not sure where they meet, it all seems to blend together now. And it also makes me wonder - is this a beginning or an end for me?
Fast forward, not twenty-four hours later. I feel sick to my stomach and I am too torn up to go to work Wednesday, so I call in and tell Jay I can't make it because of the circumstances...it is just too much for me to handle.
Then, small set back - Webb messages me back on facebook and tells me he is going to be an Invisible Children roadie for the fall. So, my ex is living my dream, not me. I'm glad I wasn't the most passionate one about it or anything
So, recap up until 10 am Wednesday morning - grief, loss, panic, fear, inadequacy, terror, an inexplicable hole in my heart, my entire being unsettled.
This was just the beginning.
As I am brooding over my shortcomings and my frustration at not being able to drive the five hours to the funeral...my phone rings. I assumed it was someone responding to one of my angry text messages about the invisible children thing, but I looked at the caller ID and my heart sank. It was my doctor.
Let me sidetrack for a second and fill in those of you who don't realize what this call means. When these kinds of tests are fine, they just send you a nice little letter saying everything is fine and dandy, and it shows up on your doorstep a month later with a bill attached. They don't bother to let you know in a timely manner when everything is okay, they only make personal contact when something is wrong.
And it was.
Since I am getting emotional just rethinking the phone call, I'm going to skip the play by play. I am officially relapsing. Before, I had "the makings of cancer" if you will, which was spreading and progressing so they surgically removed it all immediately. I had known for a year and a half that it was there, but thanks to the modern marvels of medicine - they were able to tell me that I had it, but i would be sick in a week....or in a decade. But the progression happened, surgery happened, recovery, clean bill of health, I barely made it through with my sanity. Do you know what it is like to have something like that hanging over you head? And then the moment you get used to it, thinking it is harmless and it falls to the back of your mind, it becomes real. Then it is over again before you know it. Talk about going through a gamut of emotions.
This time, there isn't a question about when i will be sick - i am. I am not in a quasi-cancer stage, or a maybe, potentially, it's a possibility that it's cancer stage. I have cancer. Its hard to type those three words. I feel like I need some kind of punctuation or annotation to explain the impact of those words...but it is simple. After all, it is just a fact so I guess that is the only way to say it. Try to get me to say it on the phone - I talk around it for like a minute before I can finally work up the nerve to form the words. Every time I type it, think it, speak it, write it, it becomes a reality more and more so than the last.
I don't want to do this alone. I find myself still trying to "be strong" on the outside and act like it is okay but it's not. I'm falling apart and I don't know if I can fight through it again, especially if it is worse. I am too weak, physically, mentally, spiritually to do this again.
I can't keep talking about this right now....I'm falling apart here at the keyboard and I can't think straight through the tears and the shaking. I have cancer. I don't want to die.
As I am brooding over my shortcomings and my frustration at not being able to drive the five hours to the funeral...my phone rings. I assumed it was someone responding to one of my angry text messages about the invisible children thing, but I looked at the caller ID and my heart sank. It was my doctor.
Let me sidetrack for a second and fill in those of you who don't realize what this call means. When these kinds of tests are fine, they just send you a nice little letter saying everything is fine and dandy, and it shows up on your doorstep a month later with a bill attached. They don't bother to let you know in a timely manner when everything is okay, they only make personal contact when something is wrong.
And it was.
Since I am getting emotional just rethinking the phone call, I'm going to skip the play by play. I am officially relapsing. Before, I had "the makings of cancer" if you will, which was spreading and progressing so they surgically removed it all immediately. I had known for a year and a half that it was there, but thanks to the modern marvels of medicine - they were able to tell me that I had it, but i would be sick in a week....or in a decade. But the progression happened, surgery happened, recovery, clean bill of health, I barely made it through with my sanity. Do you know what it is like to have something like that hanging over you head? And then the moment you get used to it, thinking it is harmless and it falls to the back of your mind, it becomes real. Then it is over again before you know it. Talk about going through a gamut of emotions.
This time, there isn't a question about when i will be sick - i am. I am not in a quasi-cancer stage, or a maybe, potentially, it's a possibility that it's cancer stage. I have cancer. Its hard to type those three words. I feel like I need some kind of punctuation or annotation to explain the impact of those words...but it is simple. After all, it is just a fact so I guess that is the only way to say it. Try to get me to say it on the phone - I talk around it for like a minute before I can finally work up the nerve to form the words. Every time I type it, think it, speak it, write it, it becomes a reality more and more so than the last.
I don't want to do this alone. I find myself still trying to "be strong" on the outside and act like it is okay but it's not. I'm falling apart and I don't know if I can fight through it again, especially if it is worse. I am too weak, physically, mentally, spiritually to do this again.
I can't keep talking about this right now....I'm falling apart here at the keyboard and I can't think straight through the tears and the shaking. I have cancer. I don't want to die.
"Still I'm ready to fight.
Have my lungs,
but you can't take my sight.
The walls caved in,
Tonight."
can i be as brave as him? my wrist is a reminder, but i can never be like him - i am too weak.
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I know this probably doesn't mean much, but I believe in you.
-Erin Jordan
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