from the depths of winter to the awakening spring

were it not for skiing and the smell of new fallen snow, i would move south to warmer climes and never look back.  much of february was spent cowering in a corner of my own being; buried beneath layers of clothes and layers of doubting my own ability to get through one dreary, rainy, bone-chilling day to the next.  late in the month scans revealed angry spots in my brain where battles have been fought between it and the gamma knife.  every sensation experienced, the slightest twitch, the tiniest ache, the most insignificant deviation from the norm had me frozen in place, the path obscured by switchbacks.  there were days when i was able to stay ahead of my own worries.  the sun would come out, the birds would be singing a bit more each morning.  but the rain seemed determined to work its way back in.  it was still getting dark much too early in the morning.

because of the advancements in cancer treatment, some patients like myself have been living longer with the disease.  some research has shown the longer one lives with cancer as a chronic health condition, resiliency can decrease for some people.  you don't bounce back as quickly; it becomes more difficult to maintain the mindset to face the next scan or appointment.  small developments, even when expected, can seem much more intimidating then they might have in the past.  some people are good at regaining some sense of resiliency, even when they need to battle through the tough times.  others struggle with finding it again.  i would identify myself in the first group of patients.  when i look through past journals and notes, it is easy to identify reasons for the low spots in my morale and recognize when there has been a moment of reclamation of one type or another.  part of the reason i write each day - literally, every single day since late october 2006 is noted in a handful of notebooks - is to give myself a guide to reference when i need to find the motivation to get out of a slump.  it is also very obvious that (a) february and march are the most difficult months when it comes to reacting to adverse news and (b) it is obvious i regularly rebound from setbacks, both small and large.

i have turned to travel as a way to keep in touch with friends and find inspiration to help me through changes in treatment and life in general.  i had vacations planned for mid-march and the news received at the end of february/beginning of march crept in and threatened this activity i hold so dear to my well-being.  the swelling around the gamma-knifed spots had raised eyebrows enough to warrant very low-dose steroid treatment for flights and time at altitude.  because of my past history with steroids, i initially pushed back, but at the same time i wondered whether it was worth even getting on the planes, even going to the mountains.  i had never had doubts of this nature before.  it seemed a much larger setback than it really was.  i ended up taking the medicine and going away to familiar places, siesta key, as well as snowbird.  the week away was relaxing and full of fresh air and healing, good sleep and lots of food.  my soul needed it more this time than ever before. 

the uncertainty has returned in the past few days, as i have had headaches and am not sleeping well.  tuesday brought me to my monthly check-in and the thought is all of the headaches and fatigue could be related to something picked up from the recycled air of the planes, or due to pollen allergies; i promised to check in later this week to relay whether things have improved at all - i'm still exhausted and achy and anxious, but hopeful i'll feel better each day.  chalk it up to a very strange winter and very confused plants and my tired brain.  i'm so glad i didn't bail on vacation.  i'm looking forward to doing the things i love here at home - walks with peachy, yoga, and enjoying the unfurling spring season.