Monthly Archives: October 2012

Everything Will Be All Right.

Okay, that title up there. It sucks. Yes, it does. Frankly, being told this all your life, you have no clue. It is also very frustrating. Such a blanket answer. Naturally, for a child, that means literally¬†everything–anywhere, anyhow, anywho, anything. Such an empowering feeling until Life (e.g. people) reminds you that¬†everything will be all right once in awhile, not every moment, not every second, not in your power and certainly not at every Heart’s beats desire.

Psych101: I’m a stickler for everything. Semantics is really what I live for. I am your walking unbiased devil’s advocate. Do not tell me ‘Everything is fine’ when all I see is chaos, clutter and…hey, what’s this? [imagine a sideshow, folks.] *Ka Pow* Life is not all right. If we are ever to make someone feel just a little bit better to feel ‘all right’ about life, a new phrase may be a bit worthier than ‘Everything will be all right.’ Perhaps, ‘It will happen–in time. Rough road ahead, but don’t forget to see the little good things along the way.’ Maybe some will never really experience this all right feeling; perhaps a phrase such as, ‘You are the captain of this ship. Take each wave as they come.’

Looking back, if I was ever told that it was going to be rough patches [and why didn’t I see that anyways?], I am sure I would learn to be a bit more prepared for the highs and lows. [No use in dwelling on the why I did not…] If I had a better coping mechanism for my downtime, perhaps ‘Everything will be all right’ would work just fine.

Now, in my downtime, I reflect on this very long and winding road. I am complacent to say, everything will be all right. I will have my lows but they won’t be as low as I have been the past few months. [Details in another post. :)]

I will even be brash enough to say, Bring. it. on.

The Story of My Life…

I will keep this short. Cancer was a deer in the headlight look. Remission is a head-on collision with a locomotive; Semi-conscious, I’m in the emergency room, waiting for my turn . Leyman terms: My latest biopsy showed up inconclusive. IN-CON-CLU-SIVE. It’s a big fat “I don’t know” in my face. Guess what our next step is? Another biopsy. Yes, I get to do it AGAIN because my bone/marrow won’t give the experts an inkling of data to reassure my unforgiving frame of mind.

I won’t lie. It is rough. I was never a fan of rocky road ice cream, I’m certainly not thrilled with the bumps and bruises we are going through. The biggest hurdle is finding the right help and support you need. I am not saying there is no offer of help and such; it’s been tremendous. However, when you–yourself–have never experienced this before, the offers of help laid before you become indecipherable and confusing.

So now, the next step in the game plan is to do another biopsy. Hopefully from there, we can finally move onto Plan B–what to do when this comes back. In the meantime, we’re still waiting on the current resident to move on out and let my body be.