I know this blog has been silent for some time. The lawyering life kept me busy through much of the summer and early fall. This involved some exciting developments, including the first trial that I’ve been involved with (I was second chair), which was a lot of work, but also an amazing learning experience.
Then, in October, I went to see the doctor because of a blockage I had been experiencing in my esophagus. This triggered a series of diagnostic scopes, scans, and biopsies in the months that followed. We learned in late November that the growth in my esophagus was cancerous. But, it was not until the week before Christmas, that our follow-up appointment confirmed the worst: the esophageal cancer had also spread to my liver. Stage four. The general surgeon whom we met with told me that this particular condition was inoperable because there were multiple small growths on my liver. He also gave me 6 to 12 months to live and said that the most they could do was administer palliative chemo that might extend the timeline by a few months at best. Quite a Christmas present indeed.
My husband and I have spent the time since then looking into alternatives. Thankfully, we’ve managed to track down a few very promising options that give us hope for a better outcome. We are still following up on a number of these options to find out if my particular circumstances make me a viable candidate for such treatments of liver metastasis of esophageal cancer.
As we wait to hear, I have been moving between hope, grief, worry, uncertainty and a space of joyful appreciation for the moment and for the gifts, both large and small, that life can give. I suppose in facing this down, I have something of an advantage: I have been through difficult times, deep losses and significant uncertainty in the past, and the lesson I took from that was that during such times of uncertainty the present moment is all you have, so it is worth making the best of it, if you can.
It’s not always possible to be in that space of peace–too often the sadness at possibly having to leave it all, far sooner than I could ever have imagined I would have to, overwhelms.
It’s going to be a rough road ahead. I will post updates as I can. I know there will be many times in which the doubt, the sadness, the grief and the worry overwhelms: sometimes there is simply no choice, and staying positive is simply not possible.
I’ve always believed that it is far healthier to give vent to grief, sadness and doubt, rather than to try to repress it or shunt it aside with a facade of positivity. Such suppressions can be damaging and can backfire terribly.
But, when there is a choice, and when I can manage it, I do plan to seek out that space of gratitude and joy, if and when I can. I plan to laugh at things I find funny and to seek out such things that delight and move me.
I know the usual wisdom is that being positive leads to better outcomes, and I don’t doubt it.
But that’s not why I will try to choose the joy and gratitude. The reason I will work to make that choice, when the choice is possible, is not because of the “destination” of a better outcome (though if it helps, great! I’ll take it!). It is because choosing joy will make the journey better. Whether I live for 6 months or manage to beat this and live for another ten, twenty, thirty years (here’s hoping!!), I’d far rather spend the limited time I may have in this life being joyful, appreciating my friends, my loved ones, and the many good things I have in life. It’s just going to be so much more pleasant. I would rather lose as little time as possible to anger and fear, natural though it may be to dwell on those emotions from time to time.
Wish me well and wish me luck, dear readers and friends! I’m going to need both for the months ahead.
Lorinda J. Taylor said:
Oh, Kat, this is devastating! Why does it happen to people who are young and have so much talent, intelligence, and interest in life? I was diagnosed recently with uterine cancer, as you probably know if you read my posts on Facebook, but it was all still contained to the uterus – nothing found in the lymph nodes, and although I have to take a round of chemo, I see no reason why I won’t survive. I had an elderly friend whom I took care of who died of esophogeal cancer so I know something about it. She was 87, however. Anyway, I just think this is terrible. If anybody can stay positive,I know you will. Do you mind if I mention this on Facebook? I want to ask people to buy your books, because writings are one’s best memorial. I just feel terrible about this.
Kat said:
Thanks for your good thoughts and wishes, Lorinda. I have been following your facebook updates on your cancer situation, and was so glad to read that it was contained and not in the lymph nodes in your case.
We are hoping very much that one or another of the leads that we have discovered will pan out and provide us with a thread of hope for something curative–chemo and surgery for the esophagus and liver, instead of just a waiting game…
And of course, please do mention it on FB. I very much appreciate your kind thoughts in that regard as well!
Sunni Morris said:
Kat, I am so sorry to hear about your diagnosis. All things happen for a reason (they say) but I can’t imagine what the reason would be for you have a diagnosis like this. You are young and smart and should still have many years left ahead of you. I know you will be overwhelmed by grief, sadness, even anger that this could happen, but I do hope you try to stay as positive as you can. Breing joyful is always a better way to spend your time, as you said.
Sometimes awful things happen to nice people. My sister-in-law passed away from a stage 4 brain tumor six years ago at the age of 54. She was healthy as far as she knew and a had great job and was looking forward to traveling after her retirement. Then she found out she had the brain tumor when she went to order lunch for her co-workers and suddenly couldn’t think or speak. She drove herself to the hospital where the tumor was discovered. She did try an alternative therapy but died within three months of her diagnosis.
I’ve known people with esophagal cancer and liver cancer too. Things never look very promising when it’s stage 4, but I do hope you can find a solution that does the trick and beats the cancer, That would be wonderful. You will certainly be in my thoughts. I can only imagine how scared you must be, because I know I would feel the same. I know it’s hard to smile with news like that.
Please do take care and have hope. If I hear of anything that may help for a diagnosis like yours, I’ll post it here.
Sending healing energy and blessings your way.
Maryann said:
Kat,
I’m sorry about your diagnosis. I stumbled onto this blog while researching something else. I am praying for you. There are always miracles in different types of illness. I know someone who had stage four ovarian cancer and was told she only had a few months to live. Well, that was a couple years ago and she is still with us, back at her job and cancer-free.
I hope I am not butting in and giving unwanted advice, but have you read Love, Medicine and Miracles by Bernie Siegel? He is an MD who worked with many patients with cancer. I was flipping though the book at the library and it seems to dovetail with some of the things you wrote about finding joy and positivity. However I didn’t read it all the way through. I don’t get any credit or anything for mentioning the book, just something you may want to read.
Maryann from the east coast