Mar 222009

I read recently that the month of March has the greatest increase in daylight hours from the beginning till the end of the month.
Way to go, March!
Not generally one of my favourite months but it scored full points for that newsflash.

I like having more light. I like coming home from work in daylight.
The winter had an eternal feel to it, like I could no longer imagine it was going to stop being winter. And then I had the strange realization that some people like winter. I’m not sure how many of them live in my town, though.

So life is gradually, in little nano-sized baby steps, getting better.
And life is probably always going to have a lot of 2 steps forward, one step back.
But work has been really great. I don’t expect that condition to stay that way forever, otherwise they might stop paying me cuz it’s no big hardship, but right now it’s really good.
Of course, I now have a couple of co-workers who are making me nuts, but I can deal with that. Or them.

Just finished up my quarterly cancer scrutiny whirlwind tour of labs and clinics and doctors’ offices all around town.
That stuff always sort of rattles my cage, but I guess that’s to be expected.
My bloodwork came back higher than I would like. It’s still within the acceptable range, but close enough to the high end of that range that it could reach out and shake hands.
It’s the highest it’s been since I finished chemo.
The doctor is in a “let’s see how it takes shape next time” frame of mind.
I’m not completely sure how to explain how it is for me.
Probably it’s nothing but the cheeseburger I had before my bloodwork, but it is alarming.
When my CA 125 has been down around 6, and anything under 25 is okay, to have it shoot to 20 gives one pause.
And… all I can do is wait and see.
And it’s probably a good reminder for me to not get too cavalier about all this.

And, same day, same office, same on-call-ogist…. we start talking about my rock ‘em sock’em genetic inclination towards breast cancer.
I believe the number is 80% chance of getting it.
Oddly enough I had been listening to a podcast the day before saying, without the mutation, a woman has a 1 in 20 chance of getting breast cancer.
So my ever cheerful oncologist says, with no prompting from me, “If you want to lower your risk level to that of a normal woman, you need to have the double mastectomy.”
She wasn’t trying to sell me anything, it was more like she could see inside my often transparent brain.
So, I sez to her..”whoa, wait. I could have the surgery and then, *still* have a 1 in 20 chance of getting breast cancer? That’s pretty fucked up. How pissed off would I be if I had that surgery and then. still. got. breast. cancer.
Apologies for profanity but whoa.
Don’t go to Vegas if you have that sort of luck.
And then I was catching my GP up on all the news. And she was asking if I want the surgery.
And, right now, I just don’t.
I might do it one day, but right now I am not ready.

So, it’s weird. It’s always weird when I have to parachute back into cancer land. Cuz on a day to day level, you try to get on with regular life again, even though it’s always there in your head.
Cancerbaby said we are like pictures with watermarks on them. At first glance we look regular, but in the right light, held at the right angle, it shows up.

Anyway, in spite of how this might sound, things are getting better. Slowly.
I’ve got some scuba diving plans, once work settles down a bit.
I have some other things up my sleeve.
I like the light.
And it even seems like I have got a few lucky breaks lately, and I’d like to keep that ball rolling.

Happy equinox-y stuff, peoples.

Enjoy the light.

And hey, there is a symbol for biohazard, but is there a symbol for mutant or mutation? do I have to rely on the X-Men for tattoo material?

 Posted by at 4:34 pm

  One Response to “Inching towards the light”

  1. Just wanted to say I hope your next tests come out better and there’s nothing to worry about. I check in on you once in awhile even though I know you don’t post as much as you used to. I hope you keep journaling. I have a little journal myself. It’s called puggymommy but I hardly ever actually talk about my pug. I just couldn’t think of another name. I’ve read your journal since the beginning. You’ve come a long way, baby.

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