I have stage IV colon cancer, and I have been in remission now for over a year.

So during my oncology appt today I asked him, “I know my cancer is a slow grower. It has stayed dormant before and then begun to grow after almost a year.” I already knew the answer to my question. “How likely is it that the cancer is staying dormant right now while I’m in remission, and will begin to grow again in the future?”

He said in his caring voice, “It’s very likely. But I have two colon cancer patients, stage IV, who are now years past their diagnosis. One is seven years out, no sign of disease.”

So once again I am faced with this prognosis: there is hope, but it’s not very likely. But it can happen.

So I can’t sleep.

It sounds to me like I am probably going to die from this cancer…but maybe–although it’s a stretch–maybe not.

Whom do I talk with about this? Cliff is worn out and needs sleep, the kids don’t want to talk about it and they aren’t my counselors anyway, I will wear out my friends if I talk about this stuff over and over. Everybody is too close. And I don’t have a counselor right now. So I am writing about it.

I paint too. Maybe all this sadness about dying a little too soon will find its way into an abstract painting one day. (Well, that will make it all worthwhile….)

It’s weird to think that in a year or two I could be not here with my family, but instead cremated and scattered.

Or I could be one of those oncology patients still walking around, and people are thinking, “What, she’s still here?”

It could happen.

Doomed painting

I actually did more to it since this photo was taken–added shadows to the little house and other areas, toned down the foreground substantially, glazed the painting, etc.

But anyway, last night I painted over the whole thing. It’s weird to work on a painting for months and then suddenly–with a few swipes of a big brush–have the whole thing gone.

But now there are all sorts of possibilities for that canvas.

Of course I’ve gessoed over quite a few paintings in the past year–so many, in fact, that I wondered if I would ever produce anything final. But there’s a time to be done with a piece and let it go.

Here are a couple of paintings I’ve completed in the past couple of months. So far, they are safe from the gesso brush.

Remembering

On the Rocks

Since people have asked to see what I do, I’ll post my work here now and then. I don’t have a particular style yet, as you will see; I’m all over the map. I’m drawn to abstract art, but so far I haven’t done much of that. Anyway, I’m so enjoying the challenges that I encounter in art.

I am just learning…about creativity, about process, about art in general. I love looking at other artists’ work. I absorb so much, and I enjoy seeing how they used color (or didn’t use it) and how they decided to compose the painting.

During my sixth colonoscopy earlier this month, my surgeon removed a flat polyp. No cancer, though! He’s keeping a close watch, and I am still on an annual colonoscopy schedule.

I have had five colonoscopies. One year I messed up the prep instructions, and the colonoscopy actually had to be rescheduled. I would rather not have that happen again; it’s pretty embarrassing not to be able to follow basic instructions.

So my sixth colonoscopy draws near. I’m not ready for this prep, not when I’m still dealing with the effects of my second bout with shingles. I was in the hospital for three days last week, sick, in pain, and throwing up. It would be nice to have a little respite before I have to deal with the nausea of the colonoscopy prep.

I should be valuing the colonoscopy because it means early detection. But I dutifully had a colonoscopy in 2002, and it was clear. Either the doctor (not my current surgeon) didn’t see the cancer or it hadn’t begun yet, because in 2005 I was diagnosed with stage I colon cancer. Then, even with annual colonoscopies and PET/CT scans every three months, I was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in 2008.

I feel like I should be cancer-free. I have been the poster-child for getting tested and being proactive. But still I got colon cancer, and still it progressed to stage IV.

So although I’m very grateful to have health care that covers colonoscopies, I have mixed feelings about actually having them. I have to deal with this anger and sadness every year. I did what I was supposed to do, and it didn’t matter.

Many of us have this story, whether at home or at work. We feel like we fell through the cracks somehow, and we feel alone. Of course, we are not.

I think it was in Winter Park where we found this little climbing wall in a children’s outdoor park. The wall is about twice the height of an adult, and children climb it with their parent spotting them.

Well, as an adult, I would never have thought to climb this children’s wall.  But my plucky niece, who is 20, clambered right up it.

So then I wondered if I could do it. Let’s see…stage IV cancer, recovering from 12 rounds of chemo – did I have what it takes anymore?

I decided to find out. (You can see a child with his parent in the background, as the wall is meant to be used.)

The beginning

The triumphant conclusion

This breathtaking feat gave me enough confidence to consider another sport: kayaking. More about that later.

Ann hiking

Isn’t it interesting that each of us has to find our own unique path in the world. Even with the billions of people who have lived on this earth, none of us has had exactly the same course of our life.

I guess with all the variables in a lifetime and with the changes from generation to generation, this isn’t all that surprising. Still…

…it makes each person’s quest unique — for meaning, for peace, for survival. Sometimes we lead long lives and sometimes short lives. But if we have the time and the ability, we can question and perhaps find the route we would like to go.

For me, the answers have become simply being, resting in quietness and enjoying the richness and simplicity of each moment.

But I no longer lead a hectic life. My children are grown, my marriage is happy, and I left my hospice chaplain job. Life slowed down after my diagnosis of stage IV cancer, and my life took a different turn.

I decided to give a lot more time to creative and outdoor activities. I began sketching, painting, and walking and hiking more.

I love the time that I have.

Me on the trail

I have been enjoying my “time off” since chemo ended in early January, although I’m still receiving one drug every other week. It has taken my body quite a while to recover from the heavy-duty chemo; I’m not there yet and am learning to live with the chemo after-effects that still remain. If they improve with time, great. In the meantime, I will keep enjoying my life.

My hair grew in a tad curlier than before. The older I get, the curlier my hair gets. I can’t believe I used to have perfectly straight hair when I was young.

I have PET/CT scan scheduled for early September.

A friend and I drove to Rocky Mountain National Park yesterday to hike and sketch. We packed a lunch and art supplies – various kinds of colored pencils and watercolors – and hit the trail to two lakes. Yes, I made it, and with an 18-pound pack!

Nymph Lake

I will never carry so much again. All I really need for art is a sketchpad, an eraser, and a couple of pencils – no color. I do need my camera, always.

In addition to an excess of art supplies, I toted heavy lunch portions of way too many veggies and grapes, which are full of water. (And I also carried in [but not out] three trays of ice cubes to keep the food cool!) We had enough bottled water and didn’t need more water in the food.

But we made it and had such a wonderful time! One of the lakes had water lilies in it with yellow blooms. Gorgeous place.

]]> http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/take-a-hike.html/feed http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/tuesday.html http://centerofthecircle.com/moments/tuesday.html#comments Tue, 16 Jun 2009 17:24:11 +0000 admin http://centerofthecircle.com/?p=378 Today I have my infusion of my med and an appointment with my local (as in within a 15 minute drive) oncologist. I’m looking forward to talking with him. I have some deficits from the chemo that I suspect I’ll have to learn to live with. That’s okay.

I have had so much fun with art lately, trying different things. My art lesson was postponed until tomorrow, so I painted for quite a long time yesterday and would like to get back to it today before my appt.

The cat’s chin is on my arm, bobbing up and down, as I type. I type quickly, so sometimes his head is almost vibrating. Why does he enjoy that, I wonder?

Maybe it’s like babies falling asleep on car rides. The rhythmic activity is lulling.

On Saturday, Cliff and I celebrated the good CT scan results by going on a beautiful but tough (for me) hike. It was only a couple of miles, but we gained some good altitude. I took many rests, and Cliff was patient as always. He steadied me a couple of times when my balance wavered.

There was a lovely stream by our path the entire hike upward. It kept crossing our trail. So nice to hear the gurgling as we hiked!

I told a friend about our hike, and she got us trekking poles from Sam’s Club today. I can’t wait to try them out!

Cliff and I saw my Univ of Colo oncologist this morning. Very good appt; he is so thorough and clear with his explanations. And it’s such a relief to have no evidence of cancer.