Driving Upside Down

I had a dream a few weeks afterI was first diagnosed. Howard, Andrine, David and I were driving up and impossibly steep hill and we soon realized that it was so steep that we had to turn around. Howard was driving the car and he made a U-turn; he turned downward so that we were driving upside down under an outcropping. I expected to fall straight down and crash on the rocks below and I awoke with a start, only to realize that we hadn’t fallen. We were driving upside down.

I had been telling people (around the time of the dream) that I felt as if my whole world turned upside down. Heretofore I had been very healthy, eating well, had a job I loved, I exercised a lot, and had great relationships. I didn’t fit my profile of a cancer patient. I couldn’t relate to the fact that I was ill. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t in my model of the world to have a major life threatening disease. I was truly stunned to find out that I had cancer. There was no way it was possible in my mind. Suddenly I was in a round of endlessly seeing doctors and surgeons and every time I had a biopsy, even though there was always an 80% chance that nothing would be found, I was always in the unlucky 20%. My world was upside down.

But we’re still driving, if upside down. I went to Fred Meyer’s today, drove by myself, parked in the handicapped parking and hung my disabled parking placard on the rearview mirror. I drove a motorized cart around the store since my energy is still pretty limited. It was odd as it could be for someone who is used to bicycling everywhere through any sort of weather. I think of myself as very hearty and practically indestructible under normal circumstances but suddenly I’m operating under very abnormal circumstances. I've had to slow way down and accept myself as disabled. I'm the person who is supposed to care for others. I'm now the cared for. It's so upside down.

Tomorrow the tumor board at OHSU meets to decide what happens next, chemo or oophorectomy. I’m also having the tumor board at Providence take a look at my pathology report and come up with a recommendation. My homeopath is very skeptical about the oophorectomey idea, much preferring chemotherapy as it is more likely to make a clean sweep of any rogue cells that may have escaped to other parts of my body with intent to set up a new civilization. Barbara, the naturopathic oncologist, concurs that chemo would be best under the circumstances. I took a look into the databases to read a few abstracts and a paper on the subject and, indeed, chemo definitely improves survival rates for women with grade 3 tumors over 1 cm, even without node involvlement. I’m also interested in retaining an interest in sex and an oophorectomy is not a great option in that case. Whatever happens, I think it's time to get an oncotype test done on the breast tissue that was removed to see if chemo would have an effect. If not, there's no point in going through it.

There are so many questions and so many factors to consider.

I'm still looking for my pink wig that I used to wear many years ago. If I have chemo, it's definitely going to be part of my wardrobe. Yesterday Andrine brought home a pink winter coat that a client gave to her and said I could have it. I think it's a good sign that I'm attracting pink garments. I don't normally wear long coats. I wear bicycling clothes, especically in the winter when I have to dress for the rain. This coat is really beautiful. It's going to be a long winter of taking the bus. However, I will feel a lot better with pink hair and a pink coat. I still have the hats that I used to wear with the wig. It's got to be around here somewhere. I'm hoping that I can find some brave soul to help me go wig hunting through the basement. The task seems very daunting at the moment.