I’ve been watching old episodes of  Friday Night Lights lately.  (Terry and I bought the DVDs when we were in Duluth a few months ago.)  I don’t know what draws me to the show, but I am most certainly drawn.  At any rate, in the second episode, there was a sign on a building in the background: “There is No Substitute for Guts”.  That struck a chord with me.  I believe it’s time for me to dig deep and remember what I’m made of.

We hear so much about people bravely fighting cancer.  I don’t think there’s a whole lot of bravery involved in that fight.  It’s not as if you have much choice.  You either do the treatment or you die.  The treatment is hell, but there is really no alternative.  (Things get more dicey when there is little chance of remission.  At that point, the bravery comes in making the decision between treatment and palliation and in sticking with or ultimately revising that decision.)

At least in my case, the bravery comes in the aftermath of the whole thing.  Now is the time to be brave.  Now is the time to dig deep and do the work to get as much of my life back as possible.  Of course, everything is complicated by my other medical issues, but I can’t use them as excuses.  It’s all very complex, and I have to try to figure out how much to push without causing my physical condition to worsen.  Nonetheless, I have to try.

In another Friday Night Lights scene, the football players ran windsprints up and down a hill in the pouring rain as their coach shouted repeatedly, “Champions don’t complain; champions don’t quit!”  Perhaps for all the cancer survivors out there, we should change that to, “Survivors don’t complain; survivors don’t quit!”  I’m going to try to make that my mantra as I go to the gym, clean out the closets, do the crossword puzzles to help with cognitive function, etc., etc.  Lupus and cancer both take a lot from you, but I’m not going to let them take any more than absolutely necessary.

Survivors don’t complain.  Survivors don’t quit.  And there is no substitute for guts.

It has been a  long time since I have blogged, primarily because I haven’t felt that I have had anything worthwhile to say, and partially because I have been extraordinarily tired since late July.  To those who care, I offer my sincere apologies.

It seems that my “new normal” involves feeling wretched physically (I’m exhausted and in pain all the time, and I have bouts of mild to moderate nausea at least a few days each week.)  In spite of my physical limitations though, I am pretty content and happy.  The things I strive for now are different than they used to be.  For the past two weeks, I have been trying mightily to a) make it to the gym even once and b) get some dusting, mopping, etc. done around here.  I haven’t been successful with either one of those things yet, but I will keep trying, and I have faith that I will ultimately manage.  I think it’s the having and reaching of goals that keeps us hopeful, whatever those goals may be.

I’ve been attending church off and on with my friend P., this fall.  After church, we go out for brunch.  It’s wonderful to see her each week and to have a chance to catch up on what’s going on in her life.  I am incredibly blessed by the people in my life.  If it weren’t for my extraordinary friends, I would be miserable.  Instead, I am blessed and happy.

I had an interesting day on Monday of this week.  First, I saw my friend L., who is at home suffering with pneumonia.  I took her a book and an apple crisp to help her pass the time as she recovers.  L. is an extraordinary woman, someone I have admired since I first met her over a decade ago.  She is extremely intelligent, worldly, concerned about others and about the environment.  She is very knowledgeable with respect to a myriad of topics, so discussions with her are wonderful.  However, it’s her caring and empathy that really shine through when you speak with her.  Amazingly, she even does pneumonia with aplomb.  One of the great things about having so many truly phenomenal people in my life is that they all give me models to strive for.  Anyway, I hope L. will be feeling much better soon.  Right now, she needs to rest, but as soon as she’s well again, the world needs her back out there, making the tremendous difference that she does every day.

After seeing L., I had an appointment with a new doctor, a neurologist.  The appointment was pretty depressing.  The doctor asked me why I was there, then asked me questions about my medical history.  Even after I explained everything, he kept getting facts confused, and I was forced to correct him several times.  I don’t think he ever did get things straight.  He then did a number of neurological tests.  One of them involved straight leg raising with my left leg maybe 35 degrees above the examining table.  He then pressed on my leg, and asked me to resist.  That test took all my strength and was extremely painful, but perhaps because I didn’t yelp or moan or cry, he seemed completely oblivious.  When he was finished with everything, he told me that there was no reason for the balance problems I have been having.  He said he would arrange for an MRI of my spine, “in the interest of being comprehensive”, but he really doesn’t think it’s going to show anything of consequence.  He grudgingly stated that the difficulties could be “a diffuse effect of the chemo”, but basically, he left me with the impression that he thinks I am either making this up or I am insane.  Of course, both Terry and the rheumatology fellow in Winnipeg have seen me fall over for no apparent reason, so I suppose that means they are also insane.  Sigh. . .

At any rate, I got a call from the hospital this afternoon.  A woman from the diagnostic imaging department asked me if the neurologist’s office had informed me that I had an appointment for an MRI this morning.  I said, “No!”  She replied, “I didn’t think they did.”  She then made a new appointment for me next Tuesday.  Evidently the days of waiting six months for an MRI are a thing of the past.  I don’t know if that’s because Thunder Bay has two MRI machines now, or if it’s that cancer survivors jump the queue.  I hope it’s the former.  Otherwise, it doesn’t seem even remotely close to fair.

On a brighter note, the weekend is here!  To all you Monday to Friday warriors, enjoy your time away from the daily routine.  Refresh, recharge and do something joyful this weekend.  🙂

And most importantly, remember that you are loved.