Take your Tumors to the Beach (+ Scan Update)

The last week of July, I spent with my toes in the sand most of the time. My husbands family and us, we rented a beautiful beach house by the water. I have never spent significant time at the beach, and rarely have significant vacations of leisure. There was a lovely view of the ocean from the balcony. The beach wasn't crowded, the water was literally emerald colored and warm.

When you have cancer you start to feel frail. This week made me feel normal again. I fell in the waves, tumbled, and nothing happened. I didn't even burn. It was nice to feel invincible.

Pre-vacation Michael

It was a wonderful time, with the exception that Mike got food poisoning from eating some turkey lunch meat. Damn you lunches of meat! He spent a day delirious and sick. I told him I would care for him and he was so emotional, he didn't want me to care for him. He didn't want me to play caregiver. Watching him be nauseas, out of it, I felt helpless and anxious. I imagined that is how he feels when I am sick.

The whole week had a streak of meloncholy that swirled deep down. In our world, happy moments are always laced with a sadness. On the last day, we went at dusk to say goodbye to the ocean. I stood by myself watching the lights dim, people in the distance walking hand in hand  faded into the sea mist. Their silhouettes looked like sea glass whose edges had been worn down by the ocean currents. I started to cry. Such beauty in front of me. Would I ever see it again? Michael came over and just hugged me. You can't take these moments for granted.


The Hermit Crabs

I have  always wanted a pet, but we are low maintenance people. I decided I wanted a hermit crab. We went to those little souvenir shops and got one huge one and a smaller one. We gave them ridiculous names too. The big one is Duchess Elizabeth Crabbington of Islandton (because they live on our kitchen island) and Sir Ignacious Crabbington III. After the cat scan result on Wednesday, building the crabitat was strangely zen and helped recenter me a bit. Michael and I really put thought into making it awesome for them. I love watching where they go to, what they do.

Speaking of which, one disappeared last week. We had them in a smaller tank and I had not locked the little clear plastic ceiling. I wake up and call my mom over to introduce her to them. Tiny one. Check. Big one? It had freakin' houdini'ed itself out! And left the lid on!? It was literally baffling, I looked everywhere. No crab. Meanwhile, the tiny one took the opportunity to celebrate being king of the hill for a moment. After not moving for a week out of his shell, he took to standing on top of his coconut triumphantly, overseeing his domain I guess. We did eventually find the other, hiding in a closet on the other side of the house.

Scan Update 

So, this update was not good. I had 10% growth, meaning the new chemo did not work with me. I was placing hopes of large gains on it and no dice. I am now on an oral chemo (a pill I take all month), but changes won't be seen for a while. I am having sharp liver pains as the tumor makes himself at home and shoves everything else out.

I am disappointed. I told the doctor "I feel like I am sailing further and further from remission". He sighed and gave a definitive "Yes, you are." I am running out of potentially curative options and into maintenance territory. I want to be hopeful, but I have to be realistic that this is becoming less likely. I can't hope on unicorn farts. I am on third-line treatment, and its a drug that will maintain the tumor stable, not really shrink it. Options for big change are sliding away for me. I also found out I wasn't eligible for the clinical trials coming up...but maybe I can find something somewhere else? That remains my one sliver of real hope.

I don't want to seem as I am giving up, I am not. But at what point does one recognize the very real possibility you have to plan your life around the knowledge that you have limited time?

At home, Michael was very supportive, still optimistic. We focused on the crabs to forget it. In my head, I am going to keep going as has been. I want to plan to see more places, more beaches, I want to be happy for as long as I can. That is the only thing I have control over.