Shifting perceptions

Upon reading my short essay on paralysis (see below), my roommate Gina was clever enough to remind me that this time last year I was reeling after Comps, and completely unable to get anything done. Part of this paralysis is the lack of external deadlines.

Given my state of mind, and the lack of external deadlines, I’ve decided to embrace summer for once. This maybe hasn’t involved all the partying and beach-going that one might think “embracing summer in Hawai`i” might involve, but for me, the workaholic grad student, it’s been pretty awesome. There have been long bike rides, and roller derby, and Doctor Who, and beer, and tomorrow there will be beach and barbecue.

The news as of now is that I’m definitely going into surgery. This week I’ll be meeting with my boss about medical leave, and I’ll be calling my oncologist. We will “tentatively” schedule surgery. It’s tentative because we will set a date, but we won’t know which surgery I’ll be getting.

We won’t know which surgery I’ll be getting. Sometimes I say that and I’m calm. Sometimes I say that and it’s ridiculously funny. Sometimes I say that and it scares me shitless. How can I be three weeks from surgery and not know which surgery it is? How can this be reality?

The other calm/funny/scary thing is how my perception of life has shifted. I hadn’t even realized it happening. Didn’t even notice it once it was done. But it changed; somewhere along the line my hierarchy of values and ideas of order shifted to something bizarre. I only realized it the other day while talking (commiserating) with my friend Katie. She said ‘One day you’re annoyed they got your coffee order wrong and the next day a doctor is telling you your life will never ever be the same.’ It was during that conversation, sometime around that sentence that it occurred to me how strange it is that I’m really, really hoping for surgery to remove a tumor and possibly one ovary. That’s the good outcome. This did not use to be my definition of ‘good outcome.’ Life has changed.

Even recognizing the strangeness of that being the good outcome, I’m still really, really hoping for it. It still fills me with a sense of almost giddy relief that maybe, just maybe, it’ll turn out that that’s it. That’s all. Nothing more. Just that one, little, insignificant, finite, tiny little thing. Remove a tumor. No biggie. I was even starting to think on that outcome as almost kind of embarrassing, like I’d have to apologize to my family and friends for worrying them so much for such a stupid little thing. “Sorry everyone! False alarm! Only need to have a tumor removed. Just… forget everything we were worrying about. It’s all okay.”

Realizing that my definition of ‘good outcome’ changed means that I realized that the good outcome is still a legitimate cause for worry. But I can’t bring myself to worry about it. I only feel a giddy hope that maybe that’s all. God, it would be like heaven.

The bad outcome is the other possible surgery. Shoots, what is it called? I’m only just now learning this word—oophorectomy. Both ovaries removed. Plus hysterectomy. Uterus too. That’s a pretty serious damn surgery. And it would be followed over time by prophylactic mastectomy. Which in turn would be followed by reconstructive surgeries. Saying for the sake of optimism that I get through these surgeries before getting cancer, these surgeries would reduce a super-high risk of cancer to near zero.

I was beginning to wonder if I was making the right decision by considering all these surgeries to avoid cancer. Should I keep my body whole and hope for the best, not cut unless/until I get cancer?

But jeez, first of all, I really don’t want cancer. So think of the options—definite surgery alone versus possible cancer plus surgery together? One of these is way worse than the other.

Second, I was talking to another friend about her experience with breast cancer and she told me, “We do what we have to do to stay alive.” She said with every decision she made, every step she took, everything always was based on the criteria What Will Keep Me Alive. She said splayed out during radiation treatment she thought to herself, ‘This is the most life-affirming experience I’ve ever had,’ because radiation is scary as hell but she walked in strong because that’s what it takes. She chose life, everything else was just follow-through.

I may change my mind. I can’t speak for future versions of myself who will have had different experiences and will be better informed. But right now I can tell you that though it seems ridiculous to schedule surgery not knowing what it will be, and though it’s scary as hell to contemplate a year of surgeries in my future, I’m walking into this at least sometimes calm. Because this is my life now, these are my choices. I have no say over whether I get the good or the bad outcome. And maybe it’ll turn out to be the nothing-false-alarm-tumor-removing good outcome. But come what may, I’ll do what it takes. I choose life.