Ghandi once said, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” We do know how to live! And education is one of my core values.
I consider myself a lifelong learner, and I quite enjoy sharing the knowledge I have with others. I went to the eye doctor this morning and learned something about the oil that is produced by a gland I can’t pronounce. He showed me the video where he tried to express mine, and it was ineffective. This contributes to my dry eye condition. I didn’t even know the Meibomian Gland existed until today. Our bodies are so amazing. So many intricacies! I wondered if this was somehow related to my cancer, yet I have had dry eyes for many years.
A young apprentice was also learning, trained up by the female assistant who interviewed me about my history. “Modified, radical, right mastectomy” rolled off my tongue, along with chemotherapy, radiation, reconstruction, and other medical details. They both shared an interest in my story, followed by the apprentice demonstrating his lack of knowledge as he shared his Grandma had the “worse kind of cancer,” where they had to surgically remove her breast. I didn’t fault him. Many people do not know what a mastectomy is, or do not understand when I tell them I was diagnosed with “Stage IV, Metastatic Breast Cancer.” I probably would have asked the same thing when I was his age, untethered from chemo and care.
I’m trying the eye mask which contains tiny crystals which, when warmed, serve to express the glands. I’ll keep you posted on its effectiveness!
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Today is also chemo day.
Sometimes friends and acquaintances will ask the question posed by both my nurse and the optometrist’s assistant, “how many more infusions?” Or they will ask if I am done with treatment. Education follows, as well as my acknowledgement of the many women who are living 10, 15, or 25+ years with MBC.
I am a lifer. While my body is “stable,” and the scans do not currently detect this horrible disease in organs or brain, I will never be deemed by the doctors “cancer free.” I will never again ring the bell I heard tolling at the clinic earlier today. I will hook up to the machine and my veins will drink its fluid every three weeks…for the rest of my life.
I don’t say this to get sympathy, or pity. My eyes are dry. There’s no harm in asking, if you don’t mind the education.
Á la prochaine…until next time.
