I have not written in almost a year because I have been overwhelmed and very busy surviving. Those who do not think that surviving takes effort, focus, and determination, have never had cancer. I am amazed at how much energy it takes to just get through a day, and if that day has any kind of emotional upset -  well, you can almost just write off the next 2 or three.

Those who have been following me for a while know that when I last left you I was convinced that I was going to die. I spent the next few months getting my head around that idea and becoming ok with the prospect. I continued with treatment but we were not expecting much in return and I turned my mind to accomplishing all of the things that I would need to do before my death.

My goddaughter, whom I love very much but see seldom, lives in Scotland. Other than my husband, she is my primary heir and it was important to me to see her one last time. So, I planned a wonderful trip to Scotland and a friend decided to join me. We went by ourselves, stayed in hostels, traveled on public transportation and used all of the money we saved to eat outrageously good meals. 

About halfway through the trip I started feeling better. 'Hmmm,' I said to myself, 'am I actually feeling better or is it because I am having such a good time?' When I got home I had some scans that found that most of my tumors had actually shrunk (except one delinquent that isn't minding anything we do to it). This was something I wasn't expecting and was totally unprepared for.

So, the next few weeks were spent in trying to adjust to the idea of living. To adjust to the idea that there was, indeed, a faint possibility that I might actually outlive my husband. Things that I had been able to take in stride suddenly became annoying. My life seemed too small, I didn't seem to be doing all that I was capable of doing, perhaps I had made wrong choices recently that needed to be rethought.

 All in all it was a very tumultuous time. As soon as I came to a place of relative tranquility I had my next scans. Well, whiplash isn't just an effect of car wrecks! The results were not good, nothing shrank, some things grew. Gone are the ideas of outliving my husband, replaced by the thought that I may really die within the next year or so.

In talking with my oncologist the only possibility for me now is to try another chemo agent. I swore that I would not do this, but now that the reality has come I am having to at least consider it again. I am truly in the odd place of, as one person said, fearing my treatment more than my disease. I think this is something unique to the cancer experience. I do fear it.

 Everytime I have been on chemo I have been a whisker from death. Even though this possible new agent is supposed to not effect most people, there is a distinctly high possibility that it will effect me, and the side effects include kidney failure and a remaining life on dialysis. Other treatments are awaiting that we have not considered because they damage the nerves and I already have damaged nerves from polio. Perhaps I could take them, but then I would spend the rest of my life in a wheel chair, unable to do most things that I love.

Don't know what I will choose. I am taking time to make the decision and taking into consideration not only how much longer I might live with or without the drug, but also the quality of my relationships, and what I really want out of what is left of my life. I wish it wasn't all so confusing and tiring, but it is. There is no clear cut path, no guaranteed route to success. There is only dogged perserverence, hope, and the self struggling to hold onto its dignity.