Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

Cancer brings a whole new framework to life. When one joins the community of people who have cancer, are cancer survivors, or are relatives or friends of others who bear the disease, the “new life” begins. At first, it is astonishing to find out the great numbers of people who have cancer, then it is the reality of joining the ranks and commencing the “battle”. Fighting terminology is rampant in dealing with cancer, and I will use it, too. No matter how it manifests itself, cancer has countless forms of attack, all within the body. It may be tumor, lesion, nerve, muscle, organ, blood or bone. Weapons used to fight this enemy are often harsh. Poisons that must invade the system in order to delay or kill cells that run amok also kill cells that are needed to sustain the physical self, so one’s body as battle ground means that hair falls out, gentle tissues in mouth and elsewhere are destroyed, hot flashes, rashes, pain of tissue and bone in torment, nausea and exhaustion are all a part of the struggle. For some, a hairless head and a white face give witness to the fight within, and in others, the condition is less noticeable.

I received the first diagnosis of MDS – RAEB-2 (cancer of the bone marrow) in January 2006, and at the time, my days were numbered in months. I responded very well to Vidaza, a fairly new course of treatment, and now I am someone who has lived nearly three years since becoming ill. I have never been in “remission”, that splendid place of having beaten back the invader, but rather, life goes on anyway in spite of blood readings that do not look very good. As I go forward in this uneasy place, I have had time to consider many things, and I have found that I call upon some strategies repeatedly to help me on my way. “Life Lines” will be a place where I will share them, and I invite others to tell about their coping mechanisms as well. In this way, perhaps we can all help one another through these difficult times.

“On those days when I awaken in the morning feeling dull and weary, I remind myself that my body is always working to heal and mend. That means that some days I must do very little but sit and rest, putting aside other planned activities. My daughter Heidi told me early on that one must become still and get out of the way to let the physical self do its work – this mindset helps greatly to ease the frustration that comes with the lack of energy that is so prevalent with our disease.”

Home again, and Sanctuary stands quiet and overgrown, waiting for its fruits to complete their ripening. There has been no wind or breeze and the heat wave silenced bird and insect alike. This morning, the temperatures were back down a bit, but the humidity remains high, causing Charles to remark that “the orchids are dancing in their pots”. Most of the birds are no longer singing loudly, but appear to be resting up from the trials of raising their fledges. Some have already left on their migrations to other places; the swallows and orioles are gone, many of the red-winged blackbirds have departed, and just a few of the wrens remain. Literally thousands of miles will be covered by our population of avian friends before we see them again next spring.

My blood counts came up again, taking me out of the “critical” levels back to hover just above the numbers that signal great concern about immunities. Heidi says that this improvement came about because of the homemade pastas that we consumed in Estes Park, followed by the operas in Santa Fe – since both were highly enjoyable, I would be pleased to apply the cure all over again, at any time and in any place.

It has been 31 months now since I began “My New Life” and in two weeks, we meet with the oncologist again. I have been thinking about decisions that will need to be made at that time, for we will discuss whether to resume a course of chemotherapy to make a bid for more earth time, or whether we will simply let the days dictate the future. Once again, I am praying for absolute clarity even though I know that it is a rare commodity. To date, body and blood’s condition and the progression of the disease have provided the guideposts, and so it will likely continue. God is good, I still have life, and for today, that is enough.