The Best Worst Thing: Entry 5 | Eadem Mutata Resurgo

Be sure to read in order:
Diagnosis
PET CT Scan
Scan Results
Radiation
Eadem Mutata Resurgo

Eadem Mutata Resurgo
___________________

In 22 days, I had become a cancer survivor. With the exception of some eyelashes, I didn’t lose my hair. I didn’t miss a lot of work. I didn’t become physically weak. It was a lot to take in.

The following Tuesday I had a follow up appointment with Dr. Hovland. They covered my right eye.

“What do you see.”

“Nothing,” I replied.

“No, even if it’s the top line, what do you see?”

“I assume there is a giant E up there, but I do not see anything.”

Dr. Hovland was surprised by not concerned.

“Is this normal?” I asked.

“Oh, Katie. You are all your own little lonely birds in this process. There is no normal.”

He thought my vision might start to come back in another week or two. He prescribed some steroids. I was to wait and “see.”

That night, I got angry. Why couldn’t I see? While the worst was over, I began to realize, this was going to be a long road. Dr. Hovland told me that day that I’d probably be wearing my glasses for a year. The tumor itself would take 6-12 months to shrink. I knew I had a lot to be grateful for, but I was really sad I had to wear my glasses for a year. I’m a single girl. Ironically, my eyes are what guys notice about me.

My dad said to me once, “You have beautiful eyes, Katie. Do guys tell you that all the time?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You know, Kate, guys are like cockroaches. You see one, and you know there are a thousand others hiding. Basically, if one of them says it, there are a thousand others thinking it.”

Here I was, feeling like my greatest asset had just gotten covered. I couldn’t wear eye makeup; I had to wear glasses. I felt so shallow being upset about that, but I was. Julie and Nicki listened. And told me I was allowed to feel upset.

I very gradually adjusted to no depth perception. Luckily, my sense of humor appreciated this process. I saw a client at lunch that week and when I went to give him a hug, I nearly pummeled him. It was an “objects in mirror are closer than they appear” moment. He was quite startled, and I was able to laugh. I was running into people, walls, you name it.

That Friday, I had a night out with some girlfriends. Everything was still pretty fresh, but I was craving some normalcy and a night on the town. A cute guy from Nebraska started flirting with me. My friends were turning in early but encouraged me to stay and have a drink with this guy who was so clearly interested in me. He asked me to stay for another drink, so I said yes. He made sure I didn’t have a boyfriend or husband at home. I said no. He even told me he liked my glasses.

He got up to go to the bathroom and never came back.

True story. Come to find out, he had a girlfriend and falls under the category of men who are after one thing. I cried the whole way home and the majority of the next day. I drove to Nicki’s house and sobbed on her couch.

“Why, after everything I just went through, did God put this person in front of me to do that?”

I was devastated. Not about the guy, but that I was going through all this. I recognized the anger, the sadness and the process. My therapist had warned me. I would be changed. I would experience emotions at the lowest and highest. I realized I had so much going through my mind, and I needed to figure out a positive way to channel it all, to process it all. So I started to write.

Simultaneously, my meal train continued. I had friends over for dinner and walks. I had one friend tear up when I described my relationship with my siblings and how it’s been affected. When I told her about the day I was diagnosed and how my sisters jumped into action, she was sad to realize she didn’t have that relationship with her brother. This made me grateful for the relationships I have with my family.

Nicki’s sister-in-law, Jenni, signed up for a meal. Her husband is the one who washed my hair after 6 days. We grabbed wine and apps at a local Italian restaurant. We’ve always gotten along great but rarely get one-on-one time. In fact, that may have been a first for us. We shared some secrets, some laughs and some tears. I went home that night so thankful for my third sister.

Between the writing and the visits with friends, I started to bounce back. All the while, I was awaiting that final phone call from Dr. Hovland’s office. Many had forgotten or were smart enough not to ask, but during the radiation, they took a biopsy of the cells. Were they low risk or high risk? If it were to spread, it would likely go to my liver or my lungs. Regardless of the results, there was little that could be done. But for peace of mind, I wanted to know.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and I expected the call that day. It was 4:30pm, and I was getting ready to join my team for our afternoon board meeting. Dr. Hovland’s number came across my phone. I quietly stepped away and answered, “This is Catherine.”

“Katie!” an enthusiastic voice said on the other line. “It’s Lauren from Dr. Hovland’s office. I have good news! I just got the fax with the results and literally ran to the phone to call you. The cells are as low risk as possible!”

“Really?!?!?” I was elated.

“There’s a 98% chance that five years out, you’ll still be clear. The data doesn’t really go beyond that because it’s all so new. But that is some good news.”

I walked back to my desk as my spirits lifted higher than they’d ever been.

I shouted to my team, “That was my doctor’s office. The cells are as low risk as possible. I’ve been waiting for this news.”

We immediately went to get fro-yo. Just kidding. We had a meeting. But we did the next day. I did force hugs on everyone that afternoon. I had plans that night with my dear friend Heather. Sarah introduced me to Heather when we were in high school because we were going to the same college in MN. Our friendship was instant and in college we were nicknamed trouble. We were roommates senior year and post-college. Heather eventually moved to Denver, and while I was devastated to see her go, I knew I wouldn’t be too far behind. Over the years, we have shared barrels of wine. We frequently take wine walks in City Park and our timing on this one was impeccable. She’d been out of town when I got my bad news, and I was so happy to get to share my good news, live, with such a good friend. I waited until we met.

My smile hadn’t stopped since getting that call, and when we met in the parking lot, I told her the results. We hugged and cried. I felt like I was walking on air during that walk. Heather got to know the Durbins from their visits to me in MN. We called them together to share the good news.

After that, I met my friends Roger and Veronique for another meal train. This was actually more of a booze train. Roger was an overachiever, and he’d already fulfilled his meal requirement. I waited until we sat down at Lancer Lounge to announce my news. Big cheers.

All day Friday I kept throwing my hands up in excitement. I was still smiling. I went to a BBQ that night at my friend Tami’s house with my good friend Patrick. My other good friend Patrick Q. was there, too. Patrick Q and I made plans for an outdoor concert the following night. It was a great show, and I was still giddy as could be. We ended up downtown at the Ginn Mill after the show, and I was still beaming and dancing like I didn’t have a care in the world.

A girl approached me. “This might sound really weird, but I just had to say something. You just look really happy.”

“I am happy,” I told her. “I just beat cancer. Life is good.”

So there you have it. I had hit my low, and here I was experiencing a life high.

I cashed in on my free session with Kalli. I knew that when I was ready to talk with her, it would be clear to me. I was ready. I told her about the roller coaster of emotions I was on. She validated everything, as she always does. I was coming down from my high (leveling out to reality). She reminded me that extreme emotions like that, good or bad, don’t have sustainability. It was “cancer light,” as she called it. But it still had a profound impact on me and my perspective on life and relationships. She said “Eadem Mutata Resurgo,” a latin phrase meaning, Although changed, I arise the same. Why I love Kalli. She speaks in metaphors and breaks things down in a way that my brain is able to process.

I suddenly realized that in all this, I had experienced the best worst thing that has ever happened to me. While it was scary and horrible and nothing I’d wish upon anyone, I came out okay and my quality of life is the same, if not better, thanks to my new perspective. It’s really the only way to describe it.

I experienced emotions at levels I’ve never known, and I see that as a gift. Having friends and family rally around you in your greatest time of need is also a humbling experience. It makes you count your blessings and reminds you to not take people for granted.

I worry about how to remember all this – to not forget this journey and to honor the emotions, the friendships and the results. Lately, I’ve noticed little things in my day to day that have stayed with me and help me to do so. I see reminders on my weekly walk to the grocery store – I recall the phone calls to the Durbins and Christina that day as I walked to get lunch. I was feeling shock then. When I hear my key unlock my front door, I remember praying to God that first night to keep me safe as I arrived home after a long, scary day. When I go to DTC to visit clients, I remember that drive down I-25 to meet my parents that next night for dinner and feeling their comfort. As I walk into my gym several nights a week, I see the spot where I spoke with Dustin, the ocular cancer survivor and remember feeling hope in his story. When I sink into my sister’s couch, I remember the sadness of my all-time low, and I’m thrilled to not be in that place anymore. And when I hear Trampled by Turtles play on my iTunes, I remember that concert after I’d received my good news and that feeling of complete joy. Mostly though, when I see my friends and my family, I am reminded what a gift it is to be alive and in good company. God has put some spectacular people in my path. I don’t know how I got so lucky.

I wouldn’t put 2013 in the books as the best one. I’m ready to wrap up and move into a new year, with a fresh start. I hope to regain vision in my left eye in 2014, but that is in God’s hands and I continue to trust in Him. At my last appointment on December 18, 2013, the tumor showed that, while very gradual, it is reacting to the radiation and starting to shrink (yay!). The blood clot in my eye that is believed to be blocking my vision is changing colors, a good sign that it is on its way out.

As the holidays approach, I have never felt more grateful and blessed than I do now. I have met a great guy who didn’t run when he heard I had cancer. The sacred time I spend with friends has become even more sacred. And my family continues to be my rock. As promised in the waiting room of the oncologist on May 17, my sisters and I are preparing for a Cel-EYE-brate Life trip to Mexico come January 2. Thank you all for your love and support. The Beginning.

Above card designed by Brandon Kelley. Tagline by my dad, Jim Ortman. Blog edited by my aunt, Peg Ortman.