When I got the call about my mass/lump/oma and went to the doctor to talk with him while he jammed a giant screwdriver into the back of my pelvis and suck out my marrow ... he talked about the stupid gland and doing radiation. In my mind, they took the thing out, it was bad, let's zap you and move on. It was how I explained it to whoever asked me. I had this, but they took it out, my marrow test is OK, hey how's life? I sidestepped the bigger issue. Luckily, I have a rockin' doctor who keeps bringing that issue back to me, whenever I talk to him. My disease. My cancer. When I ask him questions about my diet, can I have a glass of wine, can I exercise ... he answers "Cancer patients, like you, etc etc"
So, in my first entry and in an email to some of my friends I started to say it. I have cancer. Albeit, cancer I have the upper hand with. Cancer that hasn't been able to stretch it's legs. Cancer who may have brought luggage but that luggage was lost in the airport of my body. Cancer that will not be sticking around or ... even getting anywhere near to taking my life. In the grand scheme of cancer diagnosis' ... I'm damn lucky.
It was in admitting this, I realized that I need to listen to my team of doctors and nurses. (I have a team!!! I feel like a celebrities who have a team to help them. Except, mine don't do hair, makeup and dress me. These are keeping me alive!) I need to listen to them when they say I shouldn't work, I should rest. I am waving the white flag and laying myself in the hands of Dr. Z, Dr. L, Nurse Annabelle and Jeanette, Dr. D, and possibly the other Dr. Z. I will do as they ask of me, eat how I am supposed to, rest as I am supposed to, and remember that after I am off for this time ... I will be back at work, cancer free, and free to live my life ... for the rest of my life.
I admit it. I have cancer. I admit it. I am not entirely in control here. I admit it. I need their help. I admit it. I am a cancer patient. And I admit it, wholeheartedly, I am going to kick cancer's ass, and kick it hard.