One month ago today we received a phone call telling us that a biopsy of what was called a cyst was positive for Pancreatic Cancer. Utter disbelief is one phrase to describe my reaction the other was denial. Since then, though, so much has happened and much of it good, that my denial is gone.
The denial gets knocked out of you pretty quickly when you start chemotherapy. Two weeks ago, I woke up my regular time and went to school. The response as I signed in at the front desk of my high school, Summit High School, was a mix of 'what the hell are you doing here' to 'best of luck today' to 'I thought you had chemo today'. I had enough time to teach two classes before I had to leave. I really believe that only if you are a teacher, can you understand the need to be with your students and make it all seem normal because I had yet to tell them that I had cancer. It was important to me to let them know that chemo wasn't going to stop me because they would find out eventually. My plan was to wait until Back to School Night and tell their parents first. It was also important for me to be with my students - its hard to explain - but you get a certain kind of energy in the classroom. Its empowering to know that you can send them the message that the world goes on and you can still remain a part of it. They appreciate that you are with them and you can feel that. So its important.
We arrived at a surgery center in Westfield to have a port installed in my chest. At this point my anxiety level was at its peak. The nurses, technicians and surgeon are all so kind and ask you the same questions and it kind of makes you annoyed because you have cancer and there is nothing kind about what is going to happen today. As I was getting on the table the surgeon informed me that they would drape me so I couldn't see anything, numb me so I couldn't feel anything and medicate me to relax me. Then he informed me that he would be telling me step by step everything he would be doing, at that point I had had enough. I responded with (warning) "I don't want to hear or know a fucking thing". There was dead silence but I could hear the technician trying to squelch his laughter - I appreciated that. The procedure was over in a few minutes and I had this thing sticking out of my chest just over my right breast and a tube running over my collar bone, both were bandaged. It was sore and uncomfortable immediately. But off to Sloan Kettering in Basking Ridge we went.
The place is like an office building rather than a medical facility which is nice. After blood tests and a short wait, we were lead into a room of fancy cubicles where everyone is receiving chemo. About 100 people. Before the nurse hooked up a series of 4 bags of chemo I told Tom that we had to pray. Tom, Patrick and I held hands and prayed, I was scared. Their hands felt so strong and reassuring. It just doesn't feel good, it feels like poison, there is no other way to describe it. I was wrapped in a prayer shawl crocheted by a cousin, I help onto a wooden cross given to me by a dear friend for comfort throughout. We got to the last bag, 15 minutes in, I had a reaction and they stopped the chemo and gave me an antidote, I had a reaction to that, they had to wait until it wore off before starting again. It took about 4 1/2 hours to finish which they said was ok for my first time.
Over the next 2 days, I threw up a few times, felt like I had the flew, didn't eat much, could not sleep and then finally slept. It took me 4 days to recover enough to go to work. Those 3 days of work were hard as I was light headed, puked every day and just felt lousy. Through it all though was a feeling that I was being held up by some invisible force. During the course of the week, people kept reaching out, cards arrived, emails, phone calls, all telling me about who was praying for me. That invisible force was strong! It was the power of prayer! I felt better every day. I napped at work, I napped at home, I ate little bit more each day but it was the power of prayer that made me feel that little bit better every day.
I have Catholic parishes, Presbyterian congregations, The Jesuits of NYC, The Christian Brothers of Baltimore, Prayer groups all over! And I can feel it, it conveys a sense of peace which helps me sleep as well as function during the day. The most important thing is that it gives me confidence that even though the chemo will be hard and I will feel lousy and sick there is an army of people that are pounding heaven with prayers which will give me strength. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with the love that I cry for joy. When you have children, you know that your life will never be the same, but its a happy never be the same. Cancer is not that way - its an angry never be the same. I feel like I am in a boxing ring, in the fight of my life and the entire audience is on my side. The bookies may be betting against me but they are going to lose their money because I am going to win! Cancer has met its match. I have the best Oncologist and Surgeon on my side with the best training and equipment. I have the power of prayer on MY side - cancer can't beat that. So tomorrow is my second round of chemo. I had a great week this week, I'm going in strong. I'm ready for Round 2 - are you ready to rumble???!!!!
Thursday, September 21, 2017
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Feeling blessed and embraced by all of the support
Friday Sept 1 was my original surgery date. But due to my transfer to Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center (MSKCC) for treatment and surgery, I instead arrived on E 72nd St for a CT Scan. While I was laying down on the table the technician informed me that this scan was of my lungs. I was startled, confused and nervous. Did they think the demon had spread to my lungs? Is this how they tell you? So I took a few deep breaths, started by Rosary and relaxed. Within 5 minutes I was done and another few minutes out it in the beautiful day. I called Tom and asked him what he knew about this scan on my lungs - he responded that Dr. Jarnigan had explained that since the original scan revealed a nodule on one of my lungs he wanted to rule out spread. This is proof that you must bring someone with you as a second set of ears = you will not remember everything the medical staff says!
I decided to walk down to 33rd St to pick up the PATH back to Hoboken and then the train home. Its 3 trains to MSKCC. And its less than 20 miles away. But for NJ/NY it can be hours of traffic without mass transit. The day was just perfect, I walked under the Queensborough Bridge - a lovely structure and wondered which immigrants built that marvel. I recalled Tom admonishing me for wanting to walk so far - its a few miles at most - and just then it struck me that my mother, aunts and Grandmother had walked these streets for miles, many times. It filled me with strength to know that I was able to do the same thing.
A few blocks more and I noticed a young red haired woman jogging toward me who looked familiar. Sm Lillo, one of Julia's high school gang of girls. She yelled my name and began hugging me (sweaty too). She expressed how happy she was to see me and was similarly startled that I don't look like I have cancer - I don't feel like I have cancer either. Sam told me how much the girls plan on helping Julia and supporting her. It was very heartwarming as I have known these girls since they were 12 and they have grown into wonderful, accomplished young women.
As I zig zagged my way to Herald Square, I looked to my left along Park Avenue and about 38th St. and there was a beautiful church. So, in I went and they were having noon mass = perfect. This church was out of something in Europe - the Stations of the Cross were Renaissance quality oil paintings, the ceiling was beveled and so much gold gilt and the alter over the table seemed to be made of Mother of Pearl. I thought to myself "well we are on Park Avenue" then I thought "there are rich Catholics?" All the Catholics I know come from working class immigrants - how did these folks get rich? Either way it was a lovely mass, I lit a candle and prayed for strength, and the expertise of my medical team. While I was there though, I felt so embraced by all of the people who have reached out to lend support through, thoughts/vibes and prayers. I just felt it working.
Out on the street I realized I was hungry and was a bit overwhelmed by trying to find a place to eat when I saw and Irish flag = bingo, food. As I walked down this side street I realized it was filled with restaurants, I began to look at menus and found a Moroccan place named Arabesque. This became, nearly, the best part of the day. I sat in the front at a white marble bar - it was bright and sunny. The bartender poured me a glass of water and recommended a delicious and simple dish, kale, mushrooms over risotto. I chose a glass of Sancer
re. This perfectly attired woman who was in her 80's began to strike up a conversation. Her birthday is September 9 and she will be 87. She was born in Paris and when the Nazis occupied they forced her to wear a yellow star. Her parents were able to get her out of Paris and to Normandy (now my interest was piqued!). She stayed with 'an aunt' but you could not miss the respect with which she said the following, "I was young, scared, relatively alone and then the Americans came". She became so excited. "My parents thought they were sending me to the quiet countryside, they had no idea how loud it would be when the Americans arrived". She explained that she met a young GI who had forged his age to enter the war, he was 16 and was from NYC. After the war they kept in touch but she was dating a boy who she stated came from some wealth but he didn't seem to want to work and he didn't read. That was enough for her father to send her to relatives in Passaic NJ. She contacted the American GI, they married and he passed away a few years ago. She lives on Park Avenue in assisted living and has lunch every day at this café. She looked at me and said - 'you are not well'. I responded, 'you are correct, I have cancer." She told me I would be fine, people have survived worse but be sure to take care of your skin as it is the most important part of your body. What and inspiration!
Walking home from the train through Taylor Park (one of my favorite places) the sky was painted with clouds that swept across it as though done by an artist. I received a phone call from the Doctor's office informing me that my CT scan was negative for spread to my lungs. I was overjoyed but not really surprised as it followed the them for the day. Tom and I had a lovely night on our patio, dinner, a fire and dancing. It was a blessed day.
I decided to walk down to 33rd St to pick up the PATH back to Hoboken and then the train home. Its 3 trains to MSKCC. And its less than 20 miles away. But for NJ/NY it can be hours of traffic without mass transit. The day was just perfect, I walked under the Queensborough Bridge - a lovely structure and wondered which immigrants built that marvel. I recalled Tom admonishing me for wanting to walk so far - its a few miles at most - and just then it struck me that my mother, aunts and Grandmother had walked these streets for miles, many times. It filled me with strength to know that I was able to do the same thing.
A few blocks more and I noticed a young red haired woman jogging toward me who looked familiar. Sm Lillo, one of Julia's high school gang of girls. She yelled my name and began hugging me (sweaty too). She expressed how happy she was to see me and was similarly startled that I don't look like I have cancer - I don't feel like I have cancer either. Sam told me how much the girls plan on helping Julia and supporting her. It was very heartwarming as I have known these girls since they were 12 and they have grown into wonderful, accomplished young women.
As I zig zagged my way to Herald Square, I looked to my left along Park Avenue and about 38th St. and there was a beautiful church. So, in I went and they were having noon mass = perfect. This church was out of something in Europe - the Stations of the Cross were Renaissance quality oil paintings, the ceiling was beveled and so much gold gilt and the alter over the table seemed to be made of Mother of Pearl. I thought to myself "well we are on Park Avenue" then I thought "there are rich Catholics?" All the Catholics I know come from working class immigrants - how did these folks get rich? Either way it was a lovely mass, I lit a candle and prayed for strength, and the expertise of my medical team. While I was there though, I felt so embraced by all of the people who have reached out to lend support through, thoughts/vibes and prayers. I just felt it working.
Out on the street I realized I was hungry and was a bit overwhelmed by trying to find a place to eat when I saw and Irish flag = bingo, food. As I walked down this side street I realized it was filled with restaurants, I began to look at menus and found a Moroccan place named Arabesque. This became, nearly, the best part of the day. I sat in the front at a white marble bar - it was bright and sunny. The bartender poured me a glass of water and recommended a delicious and simple dish, kale, mushrooms over risotto. I chose a glass of Sancer
Walking home from the train through Taylor Park (one of my favorite places) the sky was painted with clouds that swept across it as though done by an artist. I received a phone call from the Doctor's office informing me that my CT scan was negative for spread to my lungs. I was overjoyed but not really surprised as it followed the them for the day. Tom and I had a lovely night on our patio, dinner, a fire and dancing. It was a blessed day.
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