Grounded

Ok - I'm GONNA be flip here but it's just how I deal with all things Cancer-related. It's my means of managing. You don't have to like it, but I would ask ask that you please not think that the details below float lightly past me because they do not.

As an aside - I wish I felt things less than I do. I've met people who have no capacity to feel things deeply ... ever ... and I pity them for their lack of being honest with themselves and those around them. I guess I'll stick with feeling too much, but it sure does hurt.

Anyway it's time - let's shake the family tree.

As I wrote a couple months ago, my Aunt's Cancer battle ceased in November - the day before Thanksgiving. Her memorial service was held a month later, which was where I got an update on Lisa's - my Aunt's daughter's - health.

Lisa's breast cancer is far more vicious than mine is. It's been cruel - and persistent. Lisa went through a complete round of chemo/radiation treatments and the port they used to administer said treatment was slow to heal. In fact, it would not close. Months afterwards even. So she had a procedure to repair the skin damage near the port on December 26th, with hopes that the wound would close shortly thereafter.

It did not.

On Monday, she was told why. The radiation treatment that was used to fight and kill any remaining cancerous cells in her breast has resulted in her having skin cancer.

(insert sound of extreme anger here)

(insert another one, and make it louder)

So my cousin, who has successfully fought breast cancer twice in a 5 year period, is now fighting skin cancer. And, bonus points, because they're unable to continue to use this specific treatment, she's been "demoted" if you will and is back to regularly-scheduled chemo for her breast cancer.

As for yours truly, I've never felt more self-assigned guilt for my comparatively easy road. I had one round of chemo that was done back in October, was more violently ill than I anticipated, recovered my footing, and had my last regularly scheduled monthly blood work this morning. If the count allows (and if I get a clear scan from my early February mammogram), I'll be promoted to every other month for blood work and my visits to Stanford will slowly morph into shopping instread of bleeding.

And on a very personal note -- which is rare for me -- I would like to tell my guy that the reason I have not shared the latest horrors with Lisa's health is that the whole process honestly scares the crap outta me. And until I can wrap my head and heart around it, I probably won't want to talk about it much. But I know that when I get to that place and I to turn to you, you'll be the amazing, strong, caring and understanding man that you've already shown yourself to be.

And that is a great feeling to have.