Head over Heels

Yesterday morning, I woke up from the yummiest dream, full of love and youth and life. I hadn't slept much over the last week for multiple reasons, but this night, I slept like I was underwater, peacefully, quietly and without difficulty. My soul is intoxicated with love. Love of life, love of my family, love that I do not have cancer and that I may continue to live this charmed, amazing life watching my kids grow up, my husband grow old ("distinguished" ha ha) and my friends grow close. I am consumed by this feeling. My friends tell me I look "radiant." I am certain it is because love looks good on me, on all of us really. Love drives beauty over the top. It is the light that shines from within, and when we love, we are fulfilled and no longer driven to the unhealthy pursuits of youth and debauchery.
Yeah, that's a little flowery.
But hey, I'm going with it. It's not every week your oncologist tells you that you have a 5cm mass growing in your body that wasn't there a year ago, or that you have a cystic liver consistent with "worrisome metastatic disease." Yeah, that's a rosy picture. It all came on the heels of me slaying a dragon that had been haunting me for years and basically, all my ducks ending up in a row. 15 years of nursing has taught me that these coincidences are strange turns of events where people die for no reason. When I worked in the cath lab, we had a guy come in on his birthday. He had just reconnected with his daughter with whom he had been estranged for 15 years. He had a strange peace about him. His pre-tests were unremarkable other than he had significant, unexplained angina with EKG changes. So we cathed him and he coded on our table. He had a 95% left main coronary artery blockage. We call it the "Widowmaker" for very good reason. We had to put in a balloon pump to save his life. We did. Barely.  It was one of the most memorable codes we ever ran and afterwards, we all agreed that we had the heebie-jeebies about the guy prior to the procedure. Everyone had that feeling that too many of the guy's ducks were in a row.
Last Monday, I thought I was dead. I thought I would be stepped up to Stage IV (due to the liver mets) with a bonus, ovarian cancer diagnosis. Marek and I braced for impact. We made all of our usual agreements. "If this, then this." "If that, then that." We sat on the steps up from our pool. I stared off into space and he played the knight in shining armor, emotionless and quiet, scared out of his wits on the inside and exuding confidence and comfort on the outside. Tuesday, I went dark. I shut my phone off. I couldn't bear to talk about it. Chemo loomed in the distance. No more hair. No more eyebrows. No more eyelashes. Fuck.
I cranked my 80's mix and thought of everyone I loved. I tried to conjure that feeling of being washed over with love and light from all the wonderful people who have been a huge part of my life and I drove to San Francisco (and back) in a nostalgic haze. Then it was time to wait.
I've made references to my sexy jewish oncologist that I am now lusting after due to a nasty case of transference and I make no excuses for it because it helps me survive all of this. I know I'm one of his favorites. Could be all of the winking and ass-grabbing, but I think he just likes the way I take my shirt off the minute he walks in the room. Okay, no ass-grabbing, but he really does have a warm smile saved especially for me and I have no qualms about going there in the deep, dark, twisted parts of my mind, especially when he percusses my liver. Seriously, there are few healthcare professionals who utilize percussion on their clinical exam but my doctor still does it and he's a total pro. He NEVER shortcuts my physical exam. He is thorough and methodical and this obsessive compulsive manner of missing nothing sends me a message that he is not going to let anything happen to me. I just love that Knight in Shining armor shit. Gets me EVERY time.
At about 7pm Tuesday night he rode in on that white horse to deliver the news that neither the hepatic cysts nor the 5 cm ovarian mass were cancerous. Miracle of miracles. I kept my cool because I don't want him to think I'm a total freak..... (because I am).
"That's great news. Thank you Doctor. I will follow up with OB/GYN right away. You'll upload the report for me? That's very helpful. Thank you sir. Yes, you have a great night too."
I hung up.
MAREK!!!!! I DON'T HAVE FUCKING CANCER!!!!!! WOOOOOO HOOOOOO!
And then I wept. I wept for a good 5 minutes and freaked my family out in the process but I did not care. I was not going to have to lose my eyelashes anytime soon. I did not have to rally my recovered body and mind for another fight. Well, except for the surgery to remove the ovarian mass which just so happens to be full of blood for who knows what crazy reason, but surgery I can do. Not only can I do it, I'm really good at it. Plus, our out-of-pocket for the year is paid due to Zoe's appendectomy, so insurance has to pick up the tab. It serves those fuckers right for denying coverage for the Petscan and making me go through hell for a full two weeks while we got three tests instead of one, loaded me up with radioisotopes so that if I don't have cancer today, I'll surely get it ten years from now, and making me wait for results,  prompting a total psyche eval and prescription for Xanax.
Yes, I know I'm swearing a lot. I usually don't swear like this, but there's a certain emphasis that swearing lends to the emotion of this news. I am free to continue living this amazing life empowered by new connections of love and joy and sweet revenge on my health insurance company. Meanwhile, love and light shine out from my girls and my husband and all of my friends that have been patiently standing by me these last couple weeks. I think we all enjoy basking in the good news and experience love regardless of social mores because in the end, love is love. No one is going to cry infidelity for loving others who are passing through to the next life, nor scream in rage when we survive that close call or the bullet whizzes by our head. I think we all take a collective sigh of relief, acknowledge that we love each other regardless of status quo and then return to the business of our lives and our love fulfilled that life is exactly as it should be. Such is the way for many, but not so much for me. This experience has rocked me to my core and it is love that has gotten me through it. I have no qualms about openly loving everyone who is watching and drawing them into my bliss. Love looks good on me. I'm going to keep wearing it.