Thursday, September 24, 2009

At the top of the roller coaster

Twenty four years ago plus or minus a month or two, I was in labor with my first child. It wasn't until I was in labor that I realized, "I can't back out of this. I can't quit just because it hurts too much. I have to see it all the way through no matter what I want to do." After 23 hours of labor and no epidural or spinal, I finally gave birth to a 7lb baby girl. At first I couldn't even bear to look at her because it had hurt so much for so long. But when I did, the magic started.

That was my first major ride on the roller coaster, where I was teed up at the top--looking at the yawning abyss below, without a clue as to what was going to happen next, and without any semblance of control.

I am back there tonight, waiting for the biopsy tomorrow and the results and the treatments and the reactions, and, and, and. Only this time, that baby girl is with me and she's telling me things she's learned in medical school, where's she's just started her third year. And we laugh and carry on but a lot of that knowledge is not easy to hear. Things like, I probably have either stage 3 or stage 4 cancer, depending on where the primary situs of the cancer is. And there are only 4 stages. And if the primary site is in another organ, that is a stage 4. But if the primary site is in the lungs, that's a stage 3 but it could have metastasized to another blood rich organ, particularly the brain.

So once again I am teetering on the top of the roller coaster, looking at the darkness below, absolutely terrified, and not knowing what bright birth this portends.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

We're thinking about you, Moe.

Six of Ten said...

Moe I will add you to the running list in my head (and heart) of friends to pray for. I'm heart sick hearing about your diagnosis, but will pray for your well being in the meantime. Hugs to you...

The Subtle Rudder said...

Oh, Moe! I'm thinking about you, as well, and sending much asskicking fuck-cancer mojo your way...please let us all know what's going on, because we worry.

4dbirds said...

I'm so sorry to hear this. I'm sending all my positive thoughts.

Anonymous said...

Good heavens, Moe. We're all behind you and hoping for the best. MichaelG

Nimble said...

Keep comfort the best way you can. Lots of us are sending hopeful thoughts.

Anonymous said...

Linked over from Nancy Nall's blog. I've always enjoyed your comments there. I was sorry to hear your "news."

You're going to hear this a million times from other fools like me but here goes: Stage 3 or 4 cancer ain't what it used to be. I have two friends who are now cancer-free and loving life after battling Stage 4 cancers (breast and lung). Not that the road to get there was easy, but at least there is a road with an arrival point.

Sending good thoughts as you begin the journey,
Christy S.

Deborah said...

Moe, a friend of mine wrote a book called "The adventures of Cancer Bitch" (University of Iowa Press), her name is S.L. Wisenberg, she also has a blog
http://cancerbitch.blogspot.com/

I hope you have had an opportunity to read NNC today or soon anyway.

Hattie said...

Over from Nancy's blog. I belong to Kaiser, the other managed care group. I found my family and I get the care we need, but we have to be pro-active.
Best of luck to you!