The Trinity

A question was posed to me at my last exam at the oncologist's office. I had heard it before. It was now becoming a running theme. I had just finished up a month of seeing new doctors.....five of them to be exact......new nurses, at least 8, and new technicians, too many to remember. Between the scans, exams, tests and treatments in the world of radiation oncology, plus the now infamous liver biopsy, I have been paraded before dozens of health care professionals. So the question that was posed upon my return to the world of chemo treatments was, "was everyone amazed at how good you look?"

Well, yes. As a matter of fact they were. They always are. The people who hold my files and history in their hands for the first time are always surprised to see me looking like I do. If you saw me on the street, you would never know what lies beneath my skin. You would never guess the extent of the battle that is fought every day inside of me. There have been many times over the past eight years when I did look sick.....sometimes deathly sick....but not right now. Not in January of 2009.

And while I am pleased every time I am asked the question. While it still makes me smile when people say that I look amazing considering what I've been through, I try not to hang my hat on any compliments about my physical exterior. As a chronic cancer patient, I know that the good times....the times when I look "normal".... can change on a dime. Hair falls out when you least expect. Bone pain can make you hunch over as you walk, aging you by decades. Skin tone can wash out, faces puff out, arms bruise and breaths shorten. My physical appearance is fleeting...ever-changing....never to be trusted.

So when you see me and want to tell me how great I look, go ahead. I'll say thank you. But what I really want to say is this: You should see how I look on the inside. My organs and bones are riddled with ugly cells that are trying their best to kill me. My pelvis looks like swiss cheese, my lungs are scarred, my liver contains dark and ominous shadows. It feels like there is probably very little lining left in my stomach and esophagus. I have no feeling in my feet and right fingers. My boobs are fake, my chest is scarred and riddled with broken blood vessels, my veins are all collapsing. And there are days when I just want it all to stop and everyone to leave me alone because no matter how good I look to you all, this still bites, I still hurt, I still can't sleep. My mind never rests.

But that's okay. I'm still here. I'm still grateful. I still talk to my daughter every day, hug my husband, pet my dogs. I am still blessed. In the human version of a trinity; mind, body, and spirit, I'm still forming a triangle. I still have all three parts. And although the body is the weakest, you know what? It always was....always has been. My spirit is the strongest, praise God, and the mind...my mind, well it has its strong days and its weak days. My trinity has worked very well for me over this long and arduous cancer journey. At times the trinity it has been a stronger force than others. And it is only as strong as its weakest part.....that old, beat up on the inside, still lookin' good on the outside body of mine. I am very aware of this ever-weakening link.

And the next time some professional says, "you look fabulous considering what you have and what you've been through." (Dr. Rubin) I'll smile and nod as always. Just know that what I really want to say is can you make the inside of me match the outside???? Can we fix anything about
my current disease condition to make you say that about an MRI, CTscan, or blood work??? Can we still find a way to be amazed about lack of disease progression, tumor markers, CTCs??? THOSE are the compliments I am interested in. That's the amazement I want you to feel. That is the miracle I'm praying for.

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it will eat its fruit." Proverbs 18:21