No Scan Today

The bone scan place called and told me that their camera is broken. Dilemma time. I'm supposed to have this scan before my next chemo on Monday. Not sure if anyone else can get me in at such late notice.

I'll keep you updated as I learn more today.

Update:

I got permission to wait until after Monday's chemo to have the scan, so it has been rescheduled for next Wednesday, 1/24.

Updated Update:

This just in...the bone scan place called and said the camera is fixed. Therefore, I will be going for the scan tomorrow now.

Keeping up with all of this? Welcome to my crazy world!!!

~*~

I am feeling good this week as I typically do in the days leading up to chemo. Lately I've been thinking about the fact that when I went through this the first time in 2000 I only had 8 chemo treatments and I was done with that part of my treatment by now. My hair was growing back, my energy was returning, my life and my body were slowly but surely getting back to normal. Granted, I was going through radiation, but after chemo that was a walk in the park and more of a hassle than anything.

This time though, there is no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel. I just keep going because I have to, I feel I have no choice. I live from test to test hoping for the best and praying that the drugs are keeping the monster inside me at bay. People say I'm so strong and courageous. I don't think so, I'm just doing what I have to do to make it through this.

Leroy Sievers wrote about strength far more eloquently than I can, because well, he's a writer and clearly, I am not. Here is some of what he has to say on this subject:

We're talking about the strength to go on, the strength to get ourselves and our loved ones through this ordeal. The strength just to get through another day. I think most people have that strength within them; they just don't always get to show it.

The people who are still trying to rebuild their lives after Katrina, they're strong. You never really know how strong you are until you're challenged. Some people never are. Some people are challenged their whole lives. But I do believe that all of us can get through far more than we ever think possible.

Because, really, you don't have a choice. You do what you have to do to get through a situation. There are inner reserves of strength within all of us. I'm not talking about heroism. That's a whole different issue. No, what I'm talking about is the quiet strength that gets you through a tough day on chemo or makes your legs steady enough to carry you out of the doctor's office when he's just given you bad news.

Can you stand alone, holding that bottle of pills, knowing that as soon as you take them your body will revolt? Can you keep your feet steady as you walk down the hospital corridor towards the chemo room, knowing what lies behind those doors? Can you fight for one more day?

I'm not talking about courage here. That's another issue. I'm talking about strength — physical strength, mental strength, moral strength. We all have limits, whether we like to believe that or not. And fatigue plays a part, too. How long can your body go before you spend every bit of every reserve? Maybe the mental limits are the toughest. How do you tell yourself to keep going, keep fighting, when all the evidence says it's a losing battle?

We've all heard the argument that sometimes it's better to give up in order to fight another day. I don't think that's really an option for those of us with cancer. If you give up today, you may not be around "another day." You have to win the fight, no matter how difficult it is today, then get up tomorrow and do it all over again. And each day gets harder. The exhaustion sets in. Your body is beat, and so is your spirit. How far down inside do you have to reach to find the strength to go on?

I've said all this just to get to one point. For cancer patients, giving up really isn't an option. I'm not talking about stopping treatment. That's a decision we will all face. It's certainly not giving up. But I have to say, after a year of living in cancer world, I have never met a patient, or a doctor, or a family member, who has given up. Not one. Maybe we're all stronger than we think. Maybe we're all just stubborn. But I think it's fair to say that none of us are going to go quietly.