Team Christina
Please make a donation to my treatment fund
The other night, I lay in bed awake, many thoughts twirled
about my mind. At the urging of a recent
acquaintance I tried something I had never done before, I began praying to Mary.
My head resting upon a pillow; a prayer clothe tucked inside, the room darkened,
the sound of multiple fans humming that have been thoughtfully placed around my
bedroom to help calm my hot flashes. I gently closed my eyes; quickly tears
began to flow as I prayed silently – I asked that health be restored to my
body, for me to continue living; I need to at least finish my job as a mother.
After all, a special birthmother entrusted me in 1999, to raise her child – I must
finish my commitment, he is only 16 years old. I asked for more time. I
tearfully plead my case and opened my soul as I prayed; I have no memory of
where my prayer ended and my sleep began. I do not think this is where the
story will end, but rather a beginning to something wonderful that is just around
the corner. After all, I have found the most
usually, peace as I walk this journey through breast cancer. I have become
increasingly willing to present as transparent, open to receiving, and continue
reaping the benefits of this new perspective – this new sense of being.
Recently I watched two documentaries that have allowed me to
experience a deeper peace and acceptance of this journey I am on, regardless of
the outcome. The first was entitled “How to die in Oregon,” although there were
moments that were difficult to watch, there were more times that the terminally
ill individuals in the series would reflect on their situation and it made
sense to me. I knew that feeling, that experience they were sharing, which
meant someone understood me. In the end, it provided my soul peace that this is
the right choice for me and my family, when the time is right.
The second documentary was entitled “A woman like me”, it interweaves
the real story of Alex Sichel, diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2011, with the
fictional story of Anna Seashell, who manages to find the glass half full when
faced with the same diagnosis. The documentary follows Alex as she uses
narrative film to explore what is foremost on her mind while confronting a
terminal disease: parenting, marriage, faith, life, and death. At one profound
moment, this tearful woman breaks, she speaks of fearing that she will “die
angry” as she wonders, “why me” then remarks “I feel like what I am supposed to
think is why not me!” She is trying to figure out “who is to blame” and finally
says, “I fucked it all up!”
What struck me is when she exposed her anger after learning
her cancer had spread; she questioned – why me [referring to the cancer
diagnosis] and was on a quest to find who was to blame for this cancer. Her
conclusion was that it was herself to blame.
For me, I only recall small moments that may be defined as anger, but
mostly sadness is what rises up. I count myself fortunate to have not been
angry about this disease, equally I have not really asked why me – I typically
say, why not me. I too believe I have found peace along this journey because I
know this is only one lifetime, that there is something greater out there –
beyond this lifetime for me. Deepening my spirituality over the past 4 ½ years
has been the catalyst for peace, comfort, love, acceptance, and hope. Knowing
there is something greater and bigger than me in the world provides there is a
greater purpose for all things.
Today, as I was driving home from my oncology appointment in
Lincoln City, along the coast toward Newport, I pulled over several times to
watch the furry of the waves crashing into the rocks. I saw the waves furry as
them speaking to me; their deep sorrow of the news I received, the waves dancing
in revolt of the 6-months to live diagnosis. I then looked off to the south and
saw a small break in the weather where just a small bit of blue sky rested only
for a moment, then disappeared. There is always a bright spot, in every
situation. I too reflected that all the women I have known that have lost their
lives to cancer – were true warriors, there was a grace, positive resilience, and
silent strength held by all these women.
What is next for me? Well, here it is, the Real Talk. There
is concern that the cancer has spread to my liver, this is not a good thing. I
will be having a PET/CT scan next week to see what is going on. I too will
continue to monitor my bloodwork and hope that the cancer cells will stop
dividing and multiplying like crazy! These cancer cells are overachievers and
like to outperform – of course, they do! I am considering getting a “bump” of
Abraxane – one chemo infusion in January, if the tumor markers continue to
elevate. I am only considering this in order to [potentially] hold back the
cancer long enough until I travel to Germany –although there is risk involved
with that choice; my body may not be able to handle another poisoning session –
I may not recover. The Abraxane may not work; it may only make me sick. Lots of
things to think about and monitor over the next couple weeks. Oh hell, it’s all
a crapshoot from here on out. Triple Negative Metastatic Breast Cancer= death,
it is only a matter of time. There is nothing curative – only interventions that
may be life extending; I am hopeful for an extension that includes quality of
life without too much suffering.
I ask you to consider my prayer I mentioned earlier – I
asked that health be restored to my body, for me to continue living; I need to at
least finish my job as a mother. After all, a special birthmother entrusted me
in 1999, to raise her child – I must finish my commitment, he is only 16 years
old. I asked for more time. Please help me get to Germany for this last chance
treatment to extend my life and continue praying for a miracle. Please donate
to my treatment fund – there is not much time left.
PLEASE DONATE
Preferred way to Donate by Mail:
Christina Garrett
PO Box 192
Philomath, Oregon 97370
Selco Credit Union Direct Deposit:
"Team Christina"
Today, I am hopeful~
*********************************
