good cop bad cop

I have a favourite doctor.

She's young, intelligent, dresses beautifully, and is drop dead smart.

She talks to me like I have a say in my treatment, and she looks me in the eye and asks me detailed questions about my medications even though she knows that Huz is the one who keeps track of all that and I actually know very little about what I swallow morning and night.

But she lends me dignity by asking me, knowing I'll default to Huz, and its gotten to be our joke now that this is how it'll play out.

She is totally 'can-do' about making holidays happen for us. Actually it was because of her 'go for it' attitude that we got to Bali in December 2014, and she reminded us today that we have mentioned a jaunt to Europe at some point, and she gave us some insight into when might be best to plan a trip like that.

The constant blood transfusions, IV meds etc all have to be worked around, but she gets that it's worth it to me.

Today she noticed that I looked tired. I was. I felt really tired, and you know how sometimes when you're told you look tired it makes you feel worse, tho with her noticing it just felt like she really saw me. Not just the me that is a little puffy faced from steroids with the punk chick spiked hair, but she actually saw me.

I have another doctor too.

He is very experienced, off the charts intelligent, has literally 'written the book' on cancer (or a few books to be exact) and I have a sneaking suspicion he doesn't really have to write down the details of my case as he keeps it all in that amazing mind of his.

He is witty and sarcastic which I like. But somehow we leave appointments with him feeling a little extra deflated. A bit heavier. Like we have been reminded afresh that yeah, I am dying, this is a horrible aggressive cancer, and gee whizz what 'the hecka' are we gonna do. We kinda know this already, so the weekly reality check is a little overkill.

Driving home today I wondered aloud to Huz about that. It's all in the delivery me thinks. All in the 'how to' of the news given, the importance of side effects, the living out of this disease which can liberate or deflate.

A 'Blue Moon' rose to balance the one my fav doctor gave me. She's a gardener too. 

So i'm lucky. I have two brilliant doctors, and they have both been humble enough to collaborate on looking after me. Being Stage IV it's not a cure that either is after, but instead this intricate balance between the actual treatment of my cancer and all the side effects of the drugs used to keep it all in check.

The living out of this Stage IV extravaganza has shifted a little in the last few weeks. It's been a messy week with lots of hip pain and some pretty yuck mornings. Pain is often an indicator of undercover menacing goings ons...don't want to think too much about that, but there it is. In my thinking anyway.

And so the ground I'm walking on may be shifting yet again even now. Just as I have adjusted to the tad bit more energy, the tad bit more independence, gardening, pottering, cleaning, arranging and beautifying my 'Robinvale'. 

Soul helping me organise our new pantry cupboard. Cheeky bottom!

And I knew the shift would come and I would one day meet again more limitations, more edges to living this out, but I don't welcome it today. 

In fact if I could just stay well for another two weeks until the end of Christmas holidays that would really help me enjoy my boys being home and then I can crash as they head back to school. Yes. That sounds like a reasonable plan cancer. Pity I can't bargain with you like I wish I could. You're so jolly bossy.