Guilt Trip

Today's chemo went well. However, I am doing a special last day of chemo, final push for Relay for Life guilt trip. If you have already given money, pass this on to someone who doesn't know about the blog and convince them to give. For those of you who have a legit reason for not giving (and by legit I mean your broke and living on the streets in a cardboard box) you too are assigned the job of passing the blog on to someone new and urging them to give. For the rest of you who have not given for some other reason...pay attention.

As I was sitting in chemo today, I was watching my little sister Erica. I think she mentally rolls her eyes when I say that. I call her my little sister, she’s 24.. I just have a hard time remembering that. Until today. I sat there watching her. She is so grown up. Sometimes she just floors me with the things she knows. I’m smart. Not so much with the common sense, but I know that I’m intelligent. That when forced to I could learn pretty much anything that I want, but Erica…she’s a whole other league. Sometimes she talks about what she does in a lab or studies in her classes and I …I just sit there and nod because I have NO clue as to what she is saying.

For the longest time we used to tease Erica that she was just a little Katrina clone, (people..they look exactly alike. You know it…I know it. Moving on) But, no offense to Katrina, she kicks both of our butts. She has all of Katrina’s focus. When Erica needs to she can buckle down and get the job done. But then she got my ability to say “enough”. She knows how to say “no”. How to make the hard decisions. She has Carol’s caring, and she has even snuck in some of Paul’s wicked sense of humor. (Although I have to admit that I grabbed almost all the rest of Paul’s humor) She is the best qualities of all of her siblings rolled into one person with out any of our neurosis. And as I watched her today, as she sat there reading my Jon Stewart book, I couldn’t help but think, that it could have been her. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my siblings, all of their spouses and all of my friends that I consider siblings. But for the most part they are all older than me and Erica is the baby. She, …I can actually see a small reflection of me …in her. And it makes me so proud that she found anything in me worth emulating. And this could have been her. For so very many reasons that would have been wrong.

But ignoring the fact that she is my sister and everything good that I can think of, do you want to know the real reason it would have been so wrong? The reason that I keep hidden? I love Erica to death, but love doesn’t stop cancer. Erica might. So here is where the guilt tripping comes in full force.

Do I agree with the Cancer Society party line? Do I know if there is a “cure for cancer”? No. I’m not sure I believe that you can cure a mutation of cells growing out of control. Cells mutated all the time. They just usually get destroyed. I’m not sure if you can stop something like that. I know, not the standard Cancer Society line. But I’m not done yet.

There may not be a cure. But, damn it, there has got to be better treatments. CHOP is not fun. It sucks. It kicks my ass. But there are worse treatments out there. I may look like death warmed over when I stumble my way out of chemo. I may turn an ashy grey color when I emerge from my “chemo-hangover-cocoon” 6 days later. But there are people who can’t move. Who can’t hold their head up, lift their arm, …walk. I know I have said this before but I really want to drive the point home. Chemo poisons your body. It is poison. It is designed to kill cells. It’s why I have no immune system, no energy…no hair. There are people who are so sick with the cancers by the time they are diagnosed that they can not do chemo. It would kill them. Can you imagine that?

It took 11 months of doctor visits before I finally noticed a lump. Imagine it was a different type of cancer. I did everything right. I went to the doctors. But for certain cancers that long would have been a death sentence. Getting to an oncologist 11 months in …there might be nothing that they could do. I lucked out.

I am grateful that chemo exists, don’t get me wrong. I am appreciative. But once again. There has got to be something better. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy and I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for my family to watch me go through this. I don’t know if I would have been strong enough to watch them if the roles had been reversed, and God willing, I hope I will never have to find out. But I know that I could not,..could not have done this with out them. My family is large and noisy …and my world. The thought of trying to do this alone, with out their support is unimaginable. And yet every two weeks, I watched, without fail, as people walked into chemo. Got their treatments and made a call to have a taxi come and pick them up to take them home. I chatted with people who have a pre chemo routine of preparing dinners for themselves so they will only have to stick the food in the microwave at mealtimes because they know they will be to sick to cook for themselves and no one else is doing it for them. I met a man who had to give his dog away. A dog he had had 9 years, because he couldn’t walk her anymore and there was no one else he could ask. There was a woman just today. She does the same chemo I do, gets the same shots that I get, and was supposed to get her final chemo today. Just like me. However, her blood counts were to low. The chemo would have done massive harm. Same medicines, different results. With all that the doctors know, in the end you just don't know if it will work. And she was by herself. I would have had a breakdown. Final chemo and you have to wait because your counts aren't right? It would have hurt me so much to have to put this off. But at least I would have been with my mother and sister. She was alone.

So, do I think there is a cure? I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. Or a researcher. So I can’t buy into that particular party line of the Cancer Society. But I do know that while they are looking for the cure they are also looking for better treatments and giving support to those who need it.
That’s why I give. Because I’m not going to find a better treatment. I’m not in a lab. But Erica will be. And I’m waiting for the day she comes to me and says, “Hey Liz! I have the most exciting news. We found a new treatment that is just as effective as chemo but improves the quality of life for the patient.” It may be a silly dream, but I refuse to use my usual self-derogatory humor to call it sad or insignificant. It is an important dream to me. To those who have been though this…you already know. To those who are living this with me…you’re learning. Researchers need the money to do their jobs and the Cancer Society needs the money to help provide support and information to those going through this.

I will continue to look for new ways for me to help those with cancer, but as of right now, with the state I am in and the energy levels I have, my biggest contribution is coming in the form of this guilt trip. I can’t do much to help right now, I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to make it around the track once, but I can ask you for your help. So that is what I’m doing. And to prove my purely non-selfish motivations, I have included the links to both Mom and Carol’s Relay for Life pages, so I don’t even want the credit. Just help. If you don’t want to give online, you can email me at ebauerlein@yahoo.com, and I will gladly give you information about other options. Pass the blog along. Let a stranger read it. Encourage them to give. The Relay isn't until Saturday.

So one or two final parting shots. I will give you my only words of wisdom, thus saving you the trouble of going through cancer and doing your own soul searching. Appreciate the little things. A walk in the woods, a dinner with your family, a movie night with friends…they might not always come as easily as they do right now.

Oh and here’s a first for you. I’m not going to push for comments.

With the hopes that you will never have to go through this - Elizabeth