I was prepared to write yesterday, but faced with Haiti’s natural disaster, I found I couldn’t. I am back at it today, with a somewhat curious title. It is, in essence, my battle call; after the initial shock of bad news, I find it necessary to rally with a message of hope.
Last week I received phone calls from both my very caring head trial nurse and my oncologist. They were checking in and following up with reassurance following my slightly concerning report from the most recent CT scan. I assured them both that after a few days of anxiety, I was back on track with a can do attitude. By definition I have a terminal illness, but it is counterbalanced by determined optimism.
It is virtually impossible for me to remain depressed for long. I would imagine this is so for a combination of reasons. To begin with, I am so in love with this world and view each new day as an adventure. I much prefer happiness to sadness, and make my choices accordingly. Depression requires focus on one’s troubles, and I am quickly bored and easily distracted. I have a home, adequate food, love and friendship. And let’s not forget the prozac…
When it comes to attitude, I actually feel a bit of a kinship with our golden retriever Buddy. Retrievers are prone to hip dysplasia, but Buddy came from a lineage with no appearance of the disorder. That is, until Buddy. He was only eight months old when an x-ray confirmed not just severe hip dysplasia on both sides, but two bad elbows as well. Poor Buddy. The breeder offered to ‘trade’ him for another dog, but that was unthinkable. We considered surgery, but ultimately decided there was just too much to fix, as well as the fact that each surgery would involve long periods of confinement and discomfort.
Buddy is not yet three years old, but there are days when his movements are more like those of an old dog. Undoubtedly, it will get much worse. None of this has had any effect on Buddy’s joie de vivre. He is happy, happy, happy and always up for anything. Food! Squirrel! Walk! Play! Pet! More wag, less bark, this one.
I’ve known some worried dogs, but not many. And usually, even in the most miserable of situations, you can turn their mood around. I believe they respond to life much as I do: each day is an adventure, happy is good, all distractions are eagerly welcomed, as is food, shelter and love. No prozac necessary.
I had been receiving scans every three months for three years at the time of the September 2008 scan. They had gone from questionable to progressively worse. “Interval increase in size and number of multiple bilateral pulmonary nodules is consistent with progression of metastatic disease”, read a report from August of 2007.
