A year ago yesterday, I received the good news that my second scan post-stem cell transplant had come back negative. I had thought about ending this blog on that note—a happy ending. But sometimes I need to write when I’m sad or need to sort things out. I realize that most of my postings here have been bummers, despite all the good things that happened within the past year. When I started this blog and looked at other cancer blogs, most of the updates stop after the treatment ends—after that, people are busy living their lives, returning to “normal.”
That said, it’s been a year of extreme ups and downs. This year was, for the most part, an amazingly good one, full of fun, friends, family and a flurry of visitors this summer. I didn’t write much about it, because I was too busy having fun.
The downs were mostly the past several months: My 16-year-old cat Akasha died in September, my mom needed hip replacement, and I’ve had two acute pancreatitis attacks. Right now, I am in limbo, waiting for the results, which are supposed to come this week, of an endoscopy. Today, though, I hope to hear more about the health of my beloved 17-year-old cat, Maceo. He had been throwing up all day and not eating yesterday, so we took him to the vet, who gave him some anti-nausea medication. I felt optimistic as he received compliments on the street and on the bus ride home. I settled in last night to keep an eye on him, but he kept throwing up and got much worse. I couldn’t will him to get better, but doing anything else felt like a betrayal. Necessary acts, like eating, seemed absurd. A little after 11, he ended up at the emergency vet, where he is now for fluids and observation.
The past few days have been a mixture of both the extreme highs and lows. As I write this, two kittens play at my feet. We got the pair of tabby kittens last Sunday, and they are particularly adorable and sweet—as cute as kittens can possibly be. It is such a joy to watch them discover new things. Like Maceo and Akasha, they have lots of personality. I want to spend all my time with them. Now I understand when mothers say how hard it is to leave their new infants, except that kittens are cute. (I kid.)
Yesterday, I felt so incredibly guilty, as if getting the kittens had caused this somehow. I’ve heard that old pets sometimes die when a new pet comes into the household because they feel as if they can go. I love Maceo so much. I still need him. However, after talking to the vets, it seems as if the timing is just coincidence. He is going to get tests to see if this is small-cell lymphoma, as Akasha had, or if it could be something like pancreatitis. (Is it possible for animals to get sympathy pains?) The hope is that they can give him so fluids and get him eating again and then take the next steps to treat whatever it is that is wrong.
This whole situation seems very familiar, like Akasha’s decline and death. I’m trying to remain optimistic, but I’m terrible at it. I know that phrase “worrying is like praying for something you don’t want to happen,” but I am a worrier. I come from a long line of worriers. Worrying is pointless, but it feels like I am actively doing something about a situation over which I have absolutely no control. It also makes me feel like I can mentally prepare myself for something for which it is impossible to prepare.
So while I wait, I worry. It is difficult not to go over times when some of the worst or unlikeliest outcomes have happened. I had the “best kind” of cancer only it wouldn’t go away. Akasha’s prognosis was originally good. That Maceo would end up in the ER last night was thought highly unlikely.
I go through bouts of extreme optimism and pessimism when it comes to the results for both Maceo, and for me. I remember last year, while I waited for my scans to come back, I mentally pleaded for at least one more year of “normal,” but now I think I should have been more specific and asked for more time, as if I could have willed it so.
As for my pancreas, the doctor is reluctant to tell me anything until they know exactly what they’re dealing with. What the endoscopy did show was that my pancreas duct is “squiggly”—I was in a post-anesthesia haze when I talked to the doctor, but I’m pretty sure that’s the term she used. It is supposed to be fairly straight, and something is pushing on it, and so it seems that its squiggly shape is probably causing the enzyme backup and the pancreatitis. The thing that is probably causing the problem seems to be the pancreatic lesion—that spot on my PET scan that’s been lighting up for so long—so they took a biopsy to be safe.
Hopefully, the samples will show what this lesion is. There’s the possibility of a stent to open up the duct, and there’s also a possibility of surgery—and pancreatic surgery is intense. All of this, however, is a lot of what-ifs. In the meantime, I’m trying not to look up the possibilities.
Before Maceo’s health issues yesterday, I had been thinking a lot about waiting. I have spent a lot of time feeling as if my life has been on hold—first with the year and a half of cancer treatment, and now, as I wait for pancreas news. Yet, when I look back at the time waiting, I realize that my life kept moving forward during that time—a lot of good along with the bad. I often wait for things to be good and right and perfect. When those times happen, I try to appreciate them, even if it’s only for a second or two to make note of it.
Life is messy and rarely do things align so well—it’s hard to not let the nagging imperfections mar the good things. I am trying to accept that I will almost always be waiting for something—news, change, improvements—but not to let it obscure the good things of the present, like two kittens each playing with the opposite end of the same toy.
UPDATE 2:47 pm: Maceo is coming home today and is hydrated and eating. His ultrasound showed his IBS and a bit of pancreatitis with possible signs of small cell lymphoma. Poor kitty! Hopefully he can also manage his lymphoma and we can deal with our pancreatitis together.