I’ll start with a metaphor to help you relate to how I am feeling at this moment. I was in the car with my loving daughter on my lap sleeping while my Love of my Life hubby went into the beach house to turn the water off and bring the bags. At first I heard a thick dapples of water almost a jazz rhythm and was enjoying the moment. chicka boom ratatat bom patz. I was realizing the temperature in the car was dipping I took my shawl off and put it over the legs of my little one preparing her tiny body from the cold weather. The suddenly it was still, the snow lightly caressed the windows and quickly melted. But then there was a moment when the heat of the car could not match the cold frosty air. The windows fogged up and the snow began to stick, one little snow flake a a time until you could no longer see out the windows. The snowflakes made clusters and slid down the front window of the car forming a sort caterpillar game from the late 80’s. But no shooting involved. Then I realize that is how my cancer is coming on my body. I still think I am at the warm body stage where the snow is still melting on me, but my defences are getting low and fog is starting to form, My body has less clear moments, and I have had a few dizzy and rare moments lately. I have clusters forming in my hip and my top part of my left leg. I don’t know how long I’ve got before I am past the point of no return and can not change the hands of time. When the cancer sticks like the snow on my window. Not being able to see or express myself and settling into quite isolation. Not able to  walk, talk or sing a single syllable.

My results are mixed blessing. In two weeks time is it st. Nicolas which to the Dutch is much bigger than Christmas. I will be on a chemo pill regime called xeloda which is a capecitabine, for the drug world a cytostatic.

This is a scary change over because for the first time in years I can feel my small motor sensors, my fingertips can button a button or pick up a thin coin such as a dime from the table. I could grip a receipt and not let it fall to the ground thinking it is still between my fingers. Finally some return to functionality. But that might all be thrown to the wind because this new pill form of chemo warns of not wearing tight shoes and tingling hands.

So what do I plan to do about it? Get a manny and a peddy? well maybe, but also get myself practing my grip ball and practice wiggling my toes who sometimes don’t take commands from my brain well.  I am going to double up my physical therapy and hope to ride out this storm, but I am honestly not confident. I just want to make it through Christmas in the states and maybe search for a 2nd opinion. This pill form chemo gives the mobility that I lust. So in some ways it is a blessing, but let’s hope that this 3 pills after breakfast and dinner works.

I am I hopeful? somewhat, but less confident than I have been in the past. Realistic. I have no hot spots in any of my organs and this stage 4 patient is quietly holding her breath.

 

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