A week ago, I sat in a Dana Farber exam room face to face with a surgical oncologist. His business card says he's an "Associate Surgeon, Division of Surgical Oncology, Harvard Medical School." He had grim news. This angiosarcoma that has invaded my body requires what I can only describe as a mutilation of the whole right side of my upper body.
The graphic images my mind conjures make me shudder. A plastic surgeon will have to close up the area by pulling skin from my abdomen up and skin from above my collar bone down and scrape off skin from my thigh to overlay the gap where the two can't meet. What in the world? Really?
But I will do it. I will do my best to use the treatment available if there's promise of a few more years. Lucas, my 10-year-old grandson, told me today that one of his friends has a great grandmother who celebrated her 99th birthday this year, but she has died since. "You're going to live till you're 100, right LeeLee?" I had to break it to him, "Um, no. I don't want to get that old." This child cannot wrap his head around his world without me in it. My heart melted.
It took a conversation with my primary care physician, Dr. Emmick, to finally let the tears flow at the thought of this radical surgery; this disfigurement I'm about to undergo. Each day seems to expose my inner battle; my sadness deepens. Despite the emotional and spiritual challenge, the practical still needs to be considered.
Today my order of three front-buttoned pajama tops arrived from Amazon. It seemed reasonable to me that pulling pajama tops over my head won't be practical. Preparing ahead of time like this -- it seems healthy. It seems like acceptance.
Yup, one day at a time, stay present, receive all the love coming my way from friends and family following me on my Caring Bridge site. My God will continue to provide and be my strength.
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