What if life doesn't sway you anymore? How do you deal with that? I find out in person what it does to you. You're being pressed hard on the facts. When I went to the hospital, I thought I'd go for a standard checkup. My oncologist said he didn't have all the results yet, so I'd get a call the next day about that. When my phone rang the next day, I was still quiet. And luckily the normal values we go through were also good. But they had also seen something about my liver values. They had doubled, and that was worrying. They wanted me to go to the hospital for a CT scan. I've taught myself not to worry until I'm certain. But let's face it, this kind of news comes like a thunder in the clear sky every time. You don't feel it coming. Until then, we never talked about my liver. Of course I know the cancer is everywhere, so also in my liver. Still, I was surprised to worry about my liver now.

The CT scan was no fun. I just can't lie well on such a small board. My legs are falling out, and I can't control it. Fortunately there was a lift, because they were going to lift me with some people. That seemed like a really bad plan to me. Fortunately, this scan doesn't take that long and I was ready after ten minutes. And then the long wait for the rash begins. Monday was the scan and Wednesday the results. That time in between is difficult. I can't and can't sit down with the suits. I'm trying to think positively. Anything that helps to somehow positively influence the outcome.

I notice that I'm very tense on Wednesday. I'm on my way to the hospital for the results. And still only positive thoughts go through my head. My oncologist is honest and straightforward. He indicates that the metastases in my liver are active, but also in my lungs and in my bones. He's asking how I feel. Well, this news really bothered me for a while, but otherwise I feel good. He says you still want to fight, or are you ready? His question scares me. What do you mean ready? Should I give it up? I'll tell him my head is far from ready to stop. That would feel like giving up. And I'm not giving up. But what does fighting mean? Then we switch to chemo by IV. We start with a weekly course and then 1 rest week. After 12 weeks, a new CT scan to see how it looks. What if we don't do anything? Then it's an expired case. Then you can get sick, we'll give you morphine to keep you as comfortable as possible, but eventually it stops. I don't know what time frame we're talking about. And with chemo, we could possibly get it stable? Yeah, that's the point. It can also be seen how you react to it.
The oncologist walks away for a while. And I tell Bianca, I can't give up, can I? Then I'm gonna feel guilty. But to what extent am I still realistic? Do I not want to be too much with my head and am not too positive? Doesn't my body indicate it's ready!? Bianca says she doesn't know me as a quitter and I'm not at that point yet. I agree with her. And when the oncologist gets back, I'll tell him I'm going to fight. I choose chemo. I'm told they're gonna start as soon as possible. I get a locker placed so they don't have to poke me every time. I'm still getting a call about that. And then we start the chemo. I'm asking if I'm gonna lose my hair. Yes. But there's a new technique that can be used with this chemo. Scalp cooling. I choose that, too. If I can keep my hair, I'd like to take a shot.

Once I lie in my bed, I completely collapse. I'm so sad and I feel so lonely. I know I have to go down this road, but it's so much right now. I think of the care home where I can possibly be placed. How am I gonna handle all that? As long as I'm at the rehab center, I have to keep working on my recovery. I feel lost and I don't know what to do with all my emotions. I put my music on and try to fall asleep.

Even more than before, I realize that I'm in the reserve time of my life. And unfortunately more towards the end than the beginning. It's a strange feeling to realize that. The world is spinning, but I don't want to stop it yet. So I'm making arrangements for the near future. I'm going to write down my new story, which I'm going to tell 25 September in The Hague. I need something to look forward to. I want to keep contributing to the world. I'm just not done yet.

Even though I have a collapse moment every day, I keep thinking about the positive things. Every day there's one. I'm trying to look ahead and still make arrangements. With friends, too. My normal behavior is to shut people out and process this myself, but I try to deal with it differently. I still intend to be able to stand again and even walk. So I'll do anything for that too. Even if I get a glimpse of my old life back. That would make me so happy. So I keep striving for that. My first challenge is therefore to be on stage 25th September in The Hague. And not next Friday's surgery, or the chemo next Wednesday. Those are tasks I have to perform to be able to stand on the 25th. And since I want to, I'm going to suffer it as best I can. I hope that I see many of you on the 25th.
#k *nkercancer

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