One Positive Thing a Day

April 28, 2011: Today is my sweet Chelsea Diana's birthday (yes, she was named after Princess Diana!). How appropriate that the big wedding is tomorrow between Prince William and Kate Middleton. Princess Diana would be so proud. Happy birthday, my darling princess girl!

Day #3 of treatment. Yesterday and today only lasted five minutes each. I asked if they were just "breaking me in slowly." They said some treatments may be a bit longer, but never more than 15 minutes. Slow and sure is okay. I'm not all that anxious to feel the side effects anyway.

Today I made two (more) doctor appointments, one for a colonoscopy consult and one for a mammogram. The C-consult is scheduled for May 18. The mammogram is TOMORROW at 12:00 noon. Lovely. Doesn't give me time to think about it, which is good. But can I just vent a bit and say that I am so tired of being a patient? My little insurance card is getting worn around the edges...and so am I. Besides the daily thing at the Utah Cancer Center, I've been to the Bountiful Clinic twice this week - once to see Dr. Beckstead and once (yesterday) to get lab work done. I never really wanted my insurance site to be on my "favorites" list, but there it is. After I set the mammogram appointment, I imagined the poor representatives at Regence who punch my name into the computer and get 20 pages of procedures and claims from the last month and a half - and virtually NOTHING before then! Okay, I'm done venting...

I really shouldn't complain about anything, especially after I "overheard" a man and his wife filling out what I'm sure was his umpteenth form at the Cancer Center this morning. I guess the questionnaire wanted his "recent medical history", to which he dictated to his wife, "Renal cancer, one kidney removed. Renal cancer of the brain, radiation treatments. Last Thursday, CT scan showed possible pancreatic cancer." He was drinking contrast for yet another scan, I'm sure. As they both bent over the form, I sneaked a peek at their faces. Calm on the outside. Screaming on the inside. Not too old, about my age. His matter-of-fact pronouncement of these deadly diagnoses was familiar to me, but I still wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him how sorry I was. No. He would not want that, any more than I would. He was there, sitting in one more doctor's office, drinking that horrid contrast for one more scan to see if there was one more thing they could do to save his life. I left the room completely sobered.

When I finished my quickie treatment and went back out to the car where Lindsey and Avery and Jane were waiting so patiently for me in the parking lot, I told Linds about this man. I put my head back on the seat and said, "Oh, it could be so much worse!" That's when Linds said, "So, that's our positive thing for the day."

Yes. One positive thing a day, at least. It could be so much worse, but it's not. I have FIVE MINUTE treatments where others may have to be strapped into their uncomfortable masks for many, many more minutes, and they do it. Let me be more grateful. Let me continue to be hopeful. Let me continue to be positive. Don't let me complain (too loudly). It will all be okay. It will all work out for the best.