Yes, this is the post wherein I solicit sympathy. Actually, I’m hoping to say this just once and let this be the last time I talk about it, but I know that it will effect future posts, so y’all need to know.
Yesterday I was diagnosed with cancer. Rectal cancer, or as my child so eloquently says, butt cancer. Notice I didn’t say solicit advice, but solicit sympathy. Two entirely different things. I want you all to feel very sorry for me. And maybe send me chocolate. And money. Y’know, if you’re feeling generous. But mostly, I want this news to drive you to the store to purchase Jones Natural Chews for your dogs.
Did I just say that out loud? Now you’re questioning the veracity of my diagnosis, aren’t you? Well, it’s true. There’s a three centimeter mass in a place no one would want it. I undergo a CT scan this morning to see if it’s spread to the lymph nodes. I won’t know until next Wednesday if it’s spread, or what stage I’m at. The doctor is amazing, as is his team. They’ve scheduled all kinds of things right up front, including the installation of a port next Thursday, in case we need it. He thinks we’ll need the chemo port.
I’m learning a whole new language, y’all. This is crazy! I can’t have cancer. Westminster is in two weeks! But I don’t know if I’ll go. Westminster is on the fence for me.
When our first dog, Clee-o, had cancer, we didn’t talk about what was involved. She was nearly 13 years old, it was in her shoulder, fast growing (literally overnight), and the best thing we could do for her was to send her over the rainbow bridge. So there was no conversation. Meaning I’m still clueless. Well, a little less so after yesterday.
So tell me your cancer stories. I don’t care if they’re encouraging, or if you lost someone. I know the power of story. It’s not just for the listener. Tell me your stories. Please. I need to hear them. But don’t give me advice about what to eat or programs to try. If you’d like to give practical advice – like a type of glove to try when my hands start to freeze – I’d love that.
I know this is going to be difficult because I’m scatter brained. For instance, this morning, in two hours, I have a CT scan. I’m not supposed to eat or drink anything before it. I made a huge pot of coffee, fixed a giant cup just the way I like it, grabbed an apple, then sat to post here. It’s staring at me. Smelling amazing. Taunting me. It was only when I was about to take that first sip of delicious nectar of the gods that I remembered I couldn’t drink it. Stupid cancer! Keeping me from my morning coffee. Grr.
The most difficult part, so far, was being told that I won’t be able to snuggle with Beyonce’ and Velveeta while I’m undergoing treatment. They hunt at night and bring in germs. The puppies won’t be able to jump on my chest and nuzzle under my chin because of the chemo port. I won’t be able to feed the chickens or collect eggs. I sure won’t be able to scoop the litter box (which I’m all heart broken over). The good news? That only lasts a couple of months.
So, hopefully this is the last time I come to y’all with big, horrific news about me. Sure, I’ll whine some as I go along. but mostly I’ll be talking about Jones Natural Chews. And wishing they cured cancer. They sure do make dogs happy. Which makes me happy.
Spreading the good chews …