Today is my birthday. I am 39. I should be ecstatic. I made it to 39! But my brain isn't working like that. It's more fixated on the thought, "Will I make it to 40? Is this a pipe dream or a possible reality?" I don't know, but I know I can't shake the thought.
I think what's adding to the glass half empty attitude is the rough few months I just had. I tried a version of my original chemo. I tolerated it well except for my blood cells and platelets. I missed two weeks due to low blood counts and even now I haven't had treatment in almost 2 weeks and my platelets are still extremely low.
I had two major issues with this chemo:
Exhaustion. I slept my days away. Even now my legs are jelly and lifting a gallon of milk can be challenging at times. Thus, lifting a 25 pound baby is a major issue.
I had a lot of help. People were here everyday to take care of Sam and let me sleep. But I would lay in bed and feel like a bystander to my life. I could hear the kids downstairs and I felt so separated. I also felt extremely useless.
The second issue was the mental exhaustion. The constant fog made simple tasks seem impossible. Paying bills, responding to text messages, and forget writing. I wouldn't call it writer's block. It's more like I was physically blocked from writing. I'd like to say I feel so much better, but I'm still weak and exhausted. I'm at least trying to change my mindset and tell myself that I am getting stronger.
Options
I saw my doctor on Monday to review my latest scan results. Basically all of the smaller tumors remained stable but the big ass tumor in my abdomen is still rapidly growing. So the conversation has changed and now the focus is this tumor. There is debate about cutting off its blood supply, completely removing it, or they may decide to leave it be. Who knows. There is still discussion about immunotherapy drugs but currently there are no clinical trials running in any major area hospitals so I would have to qualify for compassionate care in order to receive them. And that's where I'm at. Waiting. It is nice to have a reprieve but without treatment my pain is coming back.
Sam
Sometimes I forget this blog isn't just mine. It's also Sam's journey as well. So here is her update.
She is amazing. We still take her to a neonatologist because she was a preemie but it almost seems like a waste of time because she shows no signs of any delays. If anything, she thinks she is the same as Emily and Will. She wants to try everything they do no matter what the consequence is.
She does not listen to authority. She does what she wants and there's no stopping her.
She is funny. She has this ridiculous personality and she learned at a young age that she can make people laugh.
She is a dancer. If a song comes on she is compelled to dance. She is a singer. She is a song writer. Her latest song is called "Ba Ba Ba". Actually, those are the only lyrics in the song.
Her favorite thing to do is climb on someone's lap and have a book read to her.
She is constantly eating. Seriously, she is a pig.
She is constantly smiling.
She is happy.
She came from such a place of darkness. Between large amounts of drugs being pumped into my body during pregnancy, surviving a grueling surgery while her tiny little body lie asleep from the anesthesia as doctors worked around her to give me a better chance at survival, and the aftermath of painkillers and living in a body that was devastated, depressed, and disconnected.
I know many people call me a fighter. Let's just say I learned from the best.
Sam is the miracle.
Sam is the fighter.
After writing this I'm starting to feel better about today. I'm 39. I remember thinking not long ago that I would never get the chance to hear Sam call me "mamma". I'm grateful that the doctors were wrong about me only having a few months to live. I'm grateful that I've been able to witness so much growth in all of my children. I'm grateful for 39.
Happy birthday to me.
Bring on the cake.