Thank you for pushing me.

Can you hear that? It's the sound of the ebb and flow of the normal changing of the tides, not the pounding waves and whitecaps of a storm. I know it may be fleeting, but I feel, for a second, like I can take a deep breath and come up for air. I'd better enjoy it while it lasts...

I find myself stepping outside a whirlwind of visitors and fun and a small vacation and insanity at work and the "same time next year" conference that seems to suck the life out of me and March Madness and moving so fast that I can't catch up with life at times. So (large inhale, huge exhale), OK. I just may be getting a handle on the world around me once again. What on earth happened to the past three weeks???

I survived another Roads and Streets conference. I think this is my eighth year going down there, and after a while it's the same people having the same conversations, drinking the same drinks and it all starts to blur together. In years past I've been part of the planning committee and responsible for moderating sessions, so I suppose this year was a bit of a break in that aspect as I was a mere conventioneer. If only it were that simple. Being in the industry for the past ten years, many, many acquaintances are made and both personal and professional relationships are developed. The past year being what it has been, and my diligent fundraising efforts for the 3-Day, coupled with a concerned, albeit chatty, boss has enabled news of my goings on to have spread far and wide. People I hadn't seen in years, former co-workers, clients, colleagues had heard my story, seen my 1.5 minutes of fame, read my articles... it was honestly nothing short of amazing in a sense. They all wanted to know how I was, what I had been through, what was ahead of me, and when the opportunity arose, would share stories of their own experiences with cancer, or let me know about someone close to them who had been affected. So, there I was, SuperCancerGirl, in the midst of engineers on Spring Break.

I know that each and every person that inquired about my well being, asked questions, or shared stories did so out of genuine concern and caring, and in the big picture, it was all pretty awesome to experience. However, while SuperCancerGirl laughed and joked and smiled and shared her experiences, after the 653rd time, she started to wilt a bit. By the time I got back home? I wasn't exactly the best company, but rebounded after a melt-down.

Ah yes, the melt-down. I DESPISE melt-downs, but I suppose they are necessary every now and then in order to keep my SuperCancerGirl status intact. I've been doing so well at living, and living with everything I have, I nearly forgot, at times, what I was really living with. I found myself once again experiencing the dichotomy of feeling very much BTN (Back To Normal) while at the same time thinking, "who am I kidding?" Sigh. I think it was simply a product of sensory overload.

And then, there's the word "prognosis". Perhaps my aversion to the word comes from the Seinfeld episode where they were going to see a movie called Prognosis Negative or maybe it's simply a negative perception I have for unknown reasons. I looked it up on Wikipedia, and it says this:

Prognosis (literally fore-knowing, foreseeing) is a medical term denoting the
doctor'
s prediction of how a patient's disease will progress, and whether there is chance of recovery.
Aha. That might be it. I'm not the biggest fan of "predictions" and "chances of recovery" conversations. Ironically, I just had a co-worker tell me today, "Odds are man-made." Uh huh. That's probably why I latched on to The Median Isn't the Message. I realize that statistics are based in reality and focus on a particular study group, and that I happen to be part of a particular study group, but I'm also a firm believer that statistics are constantly changing each time there is a new development, a new drug, a new case study, a new day. Me? I just can't accept the chance of life passing me by while waiting to find out where I fall in that particular study group. But that's another entry entirely.

This entry? This one is about hiking. Or at least it was intended to be.

We hiked this past Saturday morning in South Mountain with TZ. It's the first time we'd been on that trail in quite some time, and just recently, have I begun hiking with people again. The weather was perfect and even though I was a bit tired from the previous couple of weeks, I was feeling good. Better than good. I conquered the hills - and there were HILLS - and once again realized that I was feeling as good as I ever have. Of course, no hike in South Mountain is complete without a breakfast burrito, and as we sat down with our coffees and our burritos, TZ was talking about how nice a hike it was, and how glad he was we had called that morning as hikes are always better with some company. And, as trivial as it may have seemed at the time, while joking about me being a greyhound or a jackrabbit, he benignly said, "Thank you for pushing me. I haven't been pushed on a hike in a while." Wow.

Thank you for pushing me.

Me?? It wasn't too long ago that I was pushing myself to get out of bed each morning and maintain as much a semblance of normalcy as I could muster. Miraculously, I once again find that I'm pushing someone else.
Realistically? I'm just one small girl next to a huge cactus taking in the enormity of it all. Please, shower gods, please, please let this last...

3 comments:

    Fantastic post SuperCancerGirl! We're stronger than we'll ever know, even when we are at our weakest.

    Keep on trucking.

    On March 26, 2008 at 5:21 PM lisa said...

    Of course it's going to last.....

    NOT UP FOR DISCUSSION!!!

    Love ya, Quiet Thunder!

    Thursday PM 1350 CDT

    You are a fighter!! You always have been and always will be. This I know because your Dad instilled this in you. You will beat this illness! Just keep fighting and keeping the faith. You know I consider you as my daughter and always have. I spent time reading your entire blog this afternoon, and I hear so much of your Dad in you!! Your Dad always gave me hope even when we were growing up, and when we both "hit the big time", he was there when I needed him. Stay strong and know that we love you!!