48

I am used to receiving less than positive news from my doctors.  In fact, I'm much more familiar to the upsetting diagnoses than the uplifting reports from my oncology team.  A few weeks ago, I was called into my general oncologist's office.  I wasn't nervous, or anxious because I'm in his office more than I am in my own home.  At least it feels that way.  I assumed he wanted to go over my recent scan, my treatment plan, or simply discuss how I am feeling.  The minute I walked through the door, I could feel the tension and the mood shift.  I usually barge right into his ridiculously large office and crack a joke about how the room is bigger than my entire house, or ask him if he needs an interior designer.  I often tell him I'll work for free if he can knock a few thousand off of my medical bills.  We laugh and then get down to business.  The vibe was much different on this particular day.  I could see it in his eyes.  I could feel the sense of sorrow he was feeling.  My carefree, jovial attitude quickly switched gears into a state fear and concern.  I sat down in the chair across the desk from him.  He looked up at me.  Our eyes locked, and for some reason my tears began to well up.  I felt a cold sweat take over my body.  I could feel my face turn a flushed pink color.  My hands and legs began to fidget as I prepared myself for the heartbreaking news.  I could tell that my doctor was searching for the right words to convey the news, and soften the blow.  I looked directly at him and said, "give it to me straight doc.  I can take it."  He said "I know you can handle it.  You are so strong."  I just don't want to utter these words to you."  I could feel my heart racing.  He had never said anything like that to me.  I felt his pain, and he felt mine.  Then, all in one breath, he revealed that my last scan showed that 48% of my body has been taken over by tumors.  Three different types of tumors to be exact.  It's very unusual to have multiple types of tumors, but I have adjusted to being a medical anomaly over the past five years.  However, this information was gut-wrentching.  I placed my glasses on my oncologist's desk, laid my head in my hands and began to cry.  I didn't know what else to do.  I sat there for a minute before my doctor came around his desk, he took my hands and wrapped them around his neck.  He let me stand there as long as I needed to.  I sobbed into his chest and repeatedly asked why?  Why me?  Why am I not getting better?  I could hear his voice crack as he told me he didn't have the answer to that question.  He wiped a tear from his eye, embraced my shoulders and said that he will never give up, or stop fighting as long as I make the same promise to him.  He pulled me back into his arms and continued to comfort my broken spirit.  As I walked out of his office, he cleared his throat and told me, "If anyone can beat this, it's going to be you.  Now go home and get some rest.  I'll see you in the morning."  I gave him a wink and a smile as I entered the hallway.  I was in a fog as I walked down the hallway and made my way to the medi-van pick-up area.  Just then I saw Rodney(one of my favorite drivers) pull up.  He jumped out of the drivers seat, walked to the other side of the van and opened the door for me.  I smiled and thanked him, as usual.  He closed the door and hopped back in the drivers seat.  Before he pulled out onto the road, he looked back at me and said "You know sugar, I look forward to seeing your sparkling smile each day I drive this van.  Your smile could brighten even the gloomiest of days."  In that single moment, I knew I had to keep fighting this fight.  No matter how difficult treatments are, how awful the side effects of those treatments, and life in general gets, I will never give up because so many wonderful people believe in me.

I continue to aggressively battle my cancer.  I have learned to take my treatment day-by-day, hour-by-hour, or minute-by-minute if I have to.  I have always taken my cancer head-on and with complete honesty.  I have never been afraid of dying.  My greatest fear is leaving behind the ones I love.  My beautiful family and my incredible friends.  I often wonder if I die young, who will I miss out on meeting?  I'm not ready to leave this life, but while I am alive I will enjoy every minute of it.

Speaking of death and dying.  Last night I had a dream that both scared the crap out of me and filled me with serenity.  My dream started by a tall man in a black suit knocking at my door.  He asked me if I was ready.  I was confused.  Ready for what?  He pointed over to a black town car.  He told me he was there to drive me to a very special place.  I shrugged my shoulders and said that I guess I was ready to go.  He walked me to the car, got me all settled in with a glass of champagne, and took off down the road.  He couldn't tell me where we were going.  He kept repeating that I would be happy with the destination.  I decided to relax, put my feet up, and sip my glass of bubbly.  We pulled up to this run-down, dilapidated looking motel.  He opened the door for me and said we had arrived.  I looked at the dump and thought to myself, "Why the hell did he bring me to this shit-hole?"  He helped me out of the car and walked me to the door I was summoned to.  He told me to go in whenever I was ready.  The door was unlocked.  I watched him saunter away.  I was confused and nervous.  I reached out for the doorknob and noticed the markings on the door.  The writing was not normal hotel numbers.  This particular door read February 18, 1985(my birthdate), and below it read October 23, 2014(the day I died apparently).  I was terrified to open the door, but I knew I had to.  Where else was I supposed to go?  I had no idea where I was and the driver was long gone.  I slowly turned the knob and opened the door.  The first person I saw was my Grandmother Alice.  She looked absolutely gorgeous!  She was youthful, smiling ear-to-ear, and had an angelic glow about her.  She walked over to me and gave me a huge hug.  As we embraced, she whispered in my ear, I never thought I would see you here so soon, but I'm glad I get to hold you again.  After a long embrace, she took my hand and walked me through a mob of people.  They were all family members and friends who had passed away years before.  They all looked so lovely and luminous.  I realized that I was no longer alive.  I'm not sure if I was in heaven.  I couldn't tell you.  I only remember feeling an overwhelming sense of love and happiness.  The best part was, for the first time in a long time, I was pain free.  As we were celebrating and catching up, I would get these flashes of my family and friend that are still living.  I was being sent glimpses of their lives.  Moments in which they wanted me, or needed me with them.  Even though I wasn't physically with them, I was there.  I was witnessing it all.  I felt their joy, their pain, their elation, and their sorrow.  I was able to help them through their challenges, and revere in their happiness.

I cannot say with complete positivity that I will die at a young age, but a large part of me believes I don't have many more years on this Earth.  My dream, although very morbid, calmed my anxieties somewhat.  Even after I pass, I will be with you all.