Yellow tulips.

A darling friend brought me oodles of treats the other day.  Among the booty was a perfect bouquet of yellow tulips.  Have you ever tried to feel sad or down while looking at yellow tulips?  Can’t be done.  They, like the warm, sunny weather we’ve been having lately, are a happy harbinger of spring.

It turns out that this, the post-treatment period, is the time in a cancer patient’s life for depression and anxiety.  While I have had my dark moments, you, my darling friends, never let me slide very far or for very long.  You call, you email, you send cards, you bring food, you clean my house, you get me out for walks or meals, you show me your scrapbooks, you make me hats, you bring plants and flowers.  In short, you care for me and about me– in a measure far, far greater than I deserve.  You make my life beautiful and joyful, even when I am housebound, exhausted, fearful, in pain, or all of the above.  You are extraordinary and you deserve to be celebrated.  I know how busy your lives are; yet you take time out to care for me.  You are heroes — not only to me, but to everyone whose heart you touch.  Each of you goes out of your way to make the world a better place.  Do you know how amazing that is in this day and age?!  The pace of your lives is bordering on unmanageable.  People everywhere are more and more disconnected.  You ignore those factors and reach out.  You make an enormous difference in the lives of a myriad of people.  On my own behalf and on behalf of all those people, I thank you and I remind you that you are greatly loved.  Bless you.

Getting a Transfusion and Presents for Christmas

During my recent cancer treatment, I received blood transfusions from an anonymous stranger in Winnipeg.  Whoever the donor was, he/she saved my life.  If you would like to do the same for someone else, and you live in Canada, you can contact Canadian Blood Services (1-888 2 DONATE, or http://www.blood.ca) to make an appointment.

Further, if my lymphoma were to relapse, the standard treatment would be salvage chemotherapy followed by a stem cell transplant.  If you are willing to sign up as a potential stem cell donor (a much more involved process than donating blood), you can get information at the following website:  http://www.onematch.ca.

Although I was a regular blood donor in my younger years, I knew that lupus precluded me from donating blood.  (There are too many antibodies in my blood.)  However, I was disappointed to learn that lymphoma now precludes me from being an organ donor as well.  If you’re healthy though, you can help in a myriad of ways.  It takes time and energy, but how cool is it to be able to save someone’s life?!

Well, the chemo is done.  My hair is starting to grow.  (I look a bit like a baby duckling right now.)  Ostensibly, the recovery is beginning.  I have started physiotherapy; I made it to the gym once last week; and I bought groceries all by myself for the first time in months.

At this point, I am still very weak, and activity of any kind quickly exhausts me.  I need extraordinarily much sleep — maybe even more than when the lupus is flaring.   There are so many things I want to do.  I feel like I have let things fall apart while I was doing chemo (not that I had any choice in the matter.)  It’s frustrating that my body won’t cooperate.  Obviously, I need to practice patience.  Why is it so much easier to be patient with other people than with ourselves?

It’s odd to finally have time for feelings.  I am feeling a bit lost.  I can’t quite imagine what my life is going to look like from now on.  First, I don’t know how much strength and stamina I’m going to re-gain, or how long it’s going to take to re-gain it.  I doubt that I’m going to make it back to teaching, so I don’t know what my contributions to the world are going to be from now on.  I keep hearing the lines from that song in A Chorus Line, “Who am I anyway?  Am I my resumé?  That is a picture of a person I don’t know.”

The only thing that’s clear to me right now is that I am surrounded by the most amazing people on the planet.  I know that whatever happens, you will support me — not because of who I am, but because of who you are.  You have demonstrated your true character and personalities throughout these long months.  You are intelligent, kind, caring and generous to a fault.  I may have multiple, trying health issues, but I still feel like one of the luckiest people alive — because of you.  I will never be able to thank you enough for your presence in my life and for all that you do to make me happy.  I don’t know what the next months will hold, but I know that you will be there, so all will be well.