Hi. I’m Kate. Turn ons include IV drips, PETscans, and organic fig newtons. Turn offs include whining, hospital gowns, and artificial sugar.
Let’s see how much life I can squeeze in between work, chemo, sleep, and scans.
One Year
I was drafting a story in my mind to commemorate my one year anniversary. Using the iconic roast turkey from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, I would describe the very moment when I learned that I had cancer. The story would capture the feeling of becoming that turkey: normal on the outside, but decayed on the inside. The story would move into how I worked to get past this mental image - using visualization to pump blood back into my organs, yoga to sweep out the cobwebs and dust. Then the story would end on an upbeat note about how I no longer felt like the Griswold’s turkey, but a living, breathing human being.
That was the plan until I found myself in the hospital for five nights. I greatly admire anyone who can do anything creative while hospitalized. For me, the beige walls and linoleum floors were a creative vacuum. I could read emails, but couldn’t compose a response. Text messaging proved challenging. Aside from taking a few pictures, I spent the time in bed, listening to music and thinking about how I should be doing something more productive with my time.
The only reason I’m able writing this is because I just learned that I can finally go home. My platelets are still extremely low and, unless they make a huge comeback, I probably won’t be able to have my treatment next week. I had to stop taking Xeloda (chemo pill) and that was a hard blow. But, if I learned anything from this whole ordeal, it’s that my body is always talking to me, telling me how it feels, I just need to turn up the volume.
So, not quite the anniversary story I had in mind, but that’s the way it goes. Ciao!
I will be praying for your, Kate!
[…] One YearBy KateBut, if I learned anything from this whole ordeal, it’s that my body is always talking to me, telling me how it feels, I just need to turn up the volume. So, not quite the anniversary story I had in mind, but that’s the way it goes. …I am strong. I am fighting. I… - http://www.katethaxton.com/survivingpc […]
I’m sorry to hear about your hospital stay - - and I completely agree, that for patients and caregivers alike, the beige walls and the linoleum floors and the constant hum of noise and activity are just brain-deadening.
Rooting for you and pulling for a Major Platelet Comeback —
Dorothy
Kate you are an amazing writer! Your case is almost identical to mine but my year is in March 08. I tried to find out more specific on your tumor as where it is or if you had surgery to remove it. Mine is in the body entwined in the vessels. No mets as yet. Good luck and I will be returning to your site frequently.
Janice
Wishing you an abundance of platelets this holiday season. Hope the hospital food was fresh and delicious. Keep on writing - I love your blog. Katherine
Hang in there Kate - Mother & I are rooting for you!! May you be showered with platelets, white blood counts, red blood counts & neutriphils alike!!
Your blog is so very powerful - I am absolutely amazed that you can write so vividly about how it feels to be a cancer patient. Congratulations on pushing through one year since your diagnosis. Now all you need for Christmas is some platelets and I will be praying that you get them.
Wow! you are such an amazing writer Kate. You express yourself in such a way that is so powerful and pulls the readers in. Although I don’t know you personally I am compelled to check in on your website and see how you are doing. I wish you all the best and hope that santa will be bringing you a sack full of platelets for christmas.
Sending you a big CONGRATS, Kate, on the one year mark
Woohoo!
If I had some spare platelets, I would have Dasher get them to you pronto. I had a bone marrow biopsy to see what the dilly is up with mine running low, but no spread to bone marrow - for that I am grateful.
And, to you, for your inspiration and candor.
Be well,
Lisa
Hi, Kate,
Congratulations on your anniversary, even if you didn’t get to celebrate it quite the way you’d have liked. You are such an inspiration, and have such eloquence when writing about your experience. My mom was diagnosed with Stage 4b in October, and your blog (and optimism) has been a bright light cutting through the darkness and fog.
Best wishes to you!
Kate,
Your blog is inspriational and you are a terrific advocate. You affect more people than you realize. Thank you.
Kevin
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