Damsel in Distress

 I am getting ready for a day of tests at the Mayo Clinic, spring has come and green is breaking through the gray of winter.  I am confident they will show the cancer is shrinking, if not gone.  My last trip up here to Mayo in the end of February was not as positive, despite my positive energy at the time. 

Grace and I left too late in the day and it was dark as we made our way through the small Iowa and Minnesota farming towns. The occasional neon sign blinking "BAR" with a few pick up trucks parked outside dotted the roadside. The A&W was closed down for the winter, waiting for spring to serve its burgers, fries, and of course, root beer.  The wind was fiercely blowing snow on the road, in a battle to cover it before the cars driving over it would scatter it again. The wind was winning, causing several long patches of icey snow covered roadway. 

We finally got to the hotel and I was tense from the dangerous driving. I had used my best lawyering skills to convince Bill that I was feeling well enough to go to the Mayo Clinic by myself. I was only going for a few scans and my Keytruda treatment.  My fatigue and nausea had lessened and I really wasn't feeling that badly.  I WAS GOING TO DO IT MYSELF.  After months and months of people helping me I wanted to feel some independendence, some freedom, some control over my situation. 

I was excited to have Grace as my traveling companion. She was doing a school project and came with me to do some investigative reporting. She went to the Mayo musuem, talked to the doctors, and collected pamphlets to help her with her project.  She also got her nails done.  While she was exploring the workings of Mayo, Mayo explored the working of me. 

We were here three days. On the last day I really wasn't feeling well, but I didn't want to tell anyone and admit defeat.  As we got ready to leave Rochester, stopped to get Grace some food before we headed back through the Midwest farmland.  I quickly took some more anti nausea medicine hoping it would make me feel better.  We decided on Noodles and I ordered chicken noodle soup, after having been on the Mayo diet all day, which means fasting for tests, my stomach was empty and I didn't feel like anything heavy. 

Before my food got delivered, someone started spinning the whole restaurant around. The people were all moving and things were going out of focus. My stomach was in revolt. I walked as fast as I could to the bathroom, feeling like I was running inside a bouncy house, Grace wide-eyed watching me. 

I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up. I was in the handicap stall, door swinging open behind me.  After my stomach stopped protesting, I layed in front of the toilet, the cold tile floor felt good.  I had the urge to put my cheek against the floor, wanting the floor to ground me, and cause my head to stop spinning.  Although, the fact that I was in a public bathroom, on the floor, right by the toilet, tipped the scale for me to endure the spinning a bit more. 

Slowly my head came to stop, my face like ash, and I walked out to Grace talking on the phone. She called Bill. She sounded the SOS. I was a damsel in distress and I needed saving. One of our friends was driving Bill to come and rescue me and drive us home. I was defeated. I was exhausted. I was so sick. 

We went out to the car and I rested. With my equilibrium restored, stomach still churning, I put the car in reverse and started going towards my knight driving a Honda Odessey.  

I sit here now, realizing my quest for independence from cancer was foolishness. My life is forever changed. I have lost some of what was and frankly, I still fight the thought that I have cancer, not accepting it, pleading for me to wake up from this on going nightmare.  

Although it is a nightmare through which I have grown, changed and obtained knowledge. I appreciate the curious  Robin hopping around my flower bed with her head cocked to one side.  I enjoy the motherly service of cleaning Cheeto stained fingers. I am grateful for moments when we are all in my bed with the kids debating whose night it is to say family prayers.  I cherish the pre-dawn snuggle fest with my boys as they drink a sippycup full of milk. I have gratitude that I can see the wonder of tulips pushing their heads through not long ago frozen ground.    I am living life with cancer and it is mostly good. So, today with all my scans I am optimistic that a part of this nightmare will come to an end.