My monthly visits to the oncologist continue to bring good
news: cancer markers in the blood
continue to drop, PET scan shows no metabolic activity, IRM shows tumors
disappearing, I continue to tolerate the chemotherapy as if it were sugar
water. My next set of check-ups is
scheduled for the end of March to make sure that we are still on the right
track.
This unusual set of circumstances – unusual according to
what the statistics say about lifespan after a diagnosis with Stage IV ovarian
cancer – intrigues me so much that I discuss it with Dr. DeV. She has no explanation but informs us that
the NIH is starting to do studies on what they term “exceptional responders”,
those who seem to defy the statistics and respond exceptionally well to their
treatment. I’d love to throw my case
into the “bucket trial” as it’s called for the sake of science, but the amount
of paperwork would be a lot to ask of my oncologist.
So I live from event to event, looking forward to spending
time with family and friends. In October
and November I spent a week with Jasmine in Brittany, a week with Charlotte and
her friend in Heuchin, a week with Élodie and Thibaut in Austin, and a week
with friends and family in Jackson, Mississippi. I ran full speed into the Wall of Fatigue and
practically had to be poured off the plane when I got back to Brussels.
Coming back to northern Europe in mid-November was
especially hard since we had lost so many daylight hours here. The weather was cloudy and gloomy and so
incredibly dark. I was exhausted and had
no motivation to do much except loll around and read. During a nice bout of weather, I decided to
completely overhaul my flowerbeds in Heuchin, which are full of perennials and
are a constant source of work to weed. I
decided I wanted to cut back and so I redesigned the beds with the help of my
Dutch neighbor whose advice was priceless:
put in flowering bushes in the back of the beds and limit the flowers to
the borders. About two-thirds of that
has been done before cold weather set in; now the rest will have to wait for
spring.
The next big event that I focused on was meeting Alec,
Virginie, Jasmine, and Martine, Virginie’s mom, in Paris in December. We took Jasmine to the US Embassy where her
birth was registered and she officially became American. She came out of the Embassy with her little
American flag and I was very proud, which surprised me since I’m not
particularly patriotic. We also met up
with dear friends and were able to share time with them and introduce them to
Jasmine, since we all went out to dinner together one evening – an exciting
experience to dine in a Parisian restaurant with a two-year old. She received kudos from the wait staff as
being well behaved ‘en restaurant’.
We spent a wonderful Christmas all together in Heuchin with
a beautiful tree that Alec and Thierry felled in the yard. When Jasmine saw the tree decorated and all
lit up in the living room she was delighted and exclaimed “Sapin!” and when
asked what kind of tree “Sapin de …?”
instead of replying “Noël” as we expected, she declared “Jasmine” thus claiming
possession of the entire Christmas tree.
We then headed for Brussels for a brief visit since Martine
had never been there before. Jasmine
celebrated her second birthday with her Belgian cousins, Émilie, Charlotte,
Lola and Alma. Both grandmothers
collaborated to make a Boston Cream Pie decorated with Barbapapa, her favorite
character for the moment.
Being surrounded by family for such events seems to be one
of the most important things that I look forward to, but then everyone goes
back home and I’m faced with the day to day routine. Despite the fact that I have plenty of
“projects” whether it be sewing or knitting or gardening, I sometimes feel a
deep emptiness. Je m’ennuie. This is
accentuated by the fact that Thierry is still working and very much involved in
his company. We don’t have the same
rhythm since I’ve left the work world.
It’s harder and harder to get coordinated in our activities.
Furthermore, I have this underlying urgency to make the most of my “borrowed
time”. I feel that I’m so incredibly
lucky to still be alive and that somehow I might be wasting that precious
time. Should I be doing more? If so, more of what? Traveling? How can I do more and not wear
myself out? Is what I’m doing
meaningful, helpful, or significant?
Sometimes I feel that I’m just letting the hours go by waiting, but for
what? I hate having constraints on my
time; I seem to crave my liberty, but without constraints there is no
commitment, and without commitment no achievement.
Learning to live in the moment would be a worthy
achievement, but I would also need to learn to feel that that in itself is
enough.
As it ‘tis the season, I wish you all the best for this
upcoming New Year, but especially “Bonne Santé”!
