L: A Cancer Story (CaringBridge copy)

as posted on CaringBridge

TL;DR -- It hasn't been easy, but I'm doing very okay for now.  :)

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Turns out I chose the most inconvenient time to move abroad. It was a bucket list item for me and I'm enamored with Scotland, so I have no regrets. But I can't say I expected to have such a serious family emergency pop up and find the love of my life -- both back in the States -- within nine months of leaving. Life truly does sneak up on your when you least expect it.

I struggled the most with my dad's news immediately upon finding out. It was Saturday, May 20th. I'd been out hiking with Kathryn and Maria in the morning, exploring the lush greenery of Blackford Hills in South Edinburgh. One of our topics of conversation was about cryptic, out-of-the-blue calls from our parents and how we're at the age where our minds immediately jump to, oh no, who's dead? I told them how, the night before, my dad had called near midnight - which was odd not only for the timing, but because my dad rarely videoed me. I answered a bit sleepy, to which he commented about forgetting how late it was (midnight in Scotland is only 4pm in Vegas). I asked why he was calling. "Just to say hello. But I'll call again tomorrow when it's not so late." I laughed to my friends about how it'd given me an unnecessary scare but, per usual, everything was fine. Except it wasn't.

Shortly after getting home from the hike and stepping out of the shower, FB Messenger rang - a group chat with my dad and Sami. We answered cheerily and asked how he was feeling. After all, he'd just had an outpatient "procedure" (which I'd been scolded for calling a "surgery", which it sure seemed to be from the description) three days prior. After a bit of small-talk he says, "Well, I have poop on a stick." I remember one of us repeating him in a lighthearted, sing-songy way, because it's an objectively funny phrase to kick off a serious conversation. But the long silence that followed made my heart drop, and again my mind jumped to, oh no, who's dead?

"It's cancer."

The world stopped with those two words. Our reality broke along with his voice. I tried to wrap my head around what I'd just heard but had no frame of reference. Both grandpas had prostate cancer, but they weren't necessarily open and forthcoming with their granddaughter about/throughout the process. This was the first time I had to face it up close - and with one of the most important people in my life. I began to shake uncontrollably.

I asked for clarity that it was pancreatic, which he confirmed. I then did the #1 worst (yet most obvious) thing to do in that situation: Google "pancreatic cancer survival rates". What I saw absolutely wrecked me, and much of the rest of the call is a blur in my memory.

I remember sobbing uncontrollably while simultaneously willing myself to stop so as not to make it harder on him. I remember Sami being extremely calm and showing little emotional reaction. I remember him telling us that him and mom were keeping a positive attitude until they knew more, which I responded to by telling him through tears that, while I'm glad they're able to do that, I'll need more time. I remember texting Kathryn the news with "I'm not okay" and getting an text back immediately saying, "Calling an Uber now". I remember feeling both guilt and relief ending the call when there was a knock at my door. I remember grabbing Kathryn for dear life and losing any composure I had left. She made sure I stayed hydrated and fed (with Taco Bell like a true friend, IYKYK) throughout the night as we zoned out to a jigsaw puzzle and The Good Place. I woke up Sunday to a text saying he'd been admitted to the hospital for sepsis and possible pancreatitis while I was asleep, which only compounded the sadness/worry/anxiety/fear/hopelessness that came with the PanCan diagnosis. I was not okay that day, nor the next day, nor the many days following. 

That first month was pure grief. It felt as though I was mourning my dad's death despite him still being alive. I got on a flight a week or so later to be with family. Seeing him in the drugged-up hospital setting was a heartbreaking challenge, but I didn't want to be anywhere else. That trip helped me come to terms with everything a bit more, and was a good reminder that he was still alive (cue Monty Python's I'm Not Dead Yet). I returned to the UK ten days later as I still had a dissertation to finish, and after a week or two back I began feeling more like myself. The facts hadn't changed, but I'd seemingly run the emotional gamut and made it to the acceptance stage. I'll have a short bout of sadness pop up now and then, but they're few and far between and I've been able to remain in consistently good spirits without relying on avoidance. Yes, the situation is "poop on a stick". But it's our poop and our stick and we're making the most of it. 

Other updates about my life:

• I turn in my dissertation *~TODAY~* and will officially be done with my Masters in Psychology of Mental Health! Graduation will happen in late November/early December. My research topic was on the interrelation of metacognition (MC), self-compassion, (SC) and general distress -- specifically looking at whether MC and SC are independent or inverted predictors of distress and whether SC moderates the relationship between MC and distress. It's 8,000 words not including the front-matter or references so I don't expect anyone in my life to actually read it. But I'm proud of the final product, and I'm proud of this degree.
• I have no plans to move back to the States any time soon. My current visa expires in January and I plan to apply for Scotland's postgraduate visa, which would allow me to stay for an additional two years. Nearly everything about this city and country are such a perfect fit for what I want/need from a living situation, and the thought of leaving really depresses me. Naturally this plan could change at the drop of a hat (or lab result), but for now I'm staying put and racking up frequent flier miles.
• I have no idea what I'm doing next with my life. In the near term, I'm bartending at the Fringe Festival (which shuts down the entire city for all of August) before spending September back in the States for quality time with friends and family. After that...who knows. I'll still continue my work through Danielle Assists, and hopefully find a gig as a psychology research assistant. But otherwise my future is a big question mark. And that's A-OK with me!
• My long-distance partnership works extremely well for us both. He's my person and I'm his, and six timezones don't change the fact that we're staunchly in the other's corner through thick and thin. It's an atypical relationship between two fiercely independent adults -- neither of us have any interest in getting married and we'd both rather pave our own path than blindly follow societal norms. So while the setup may not make sense to others, it's the healthiest and happiest partnership I could ever ask for. Doing life with him in our own weird way is wildly fun and I'm eternally grateful for his friendship, love, and support.
• Moose is still the best Scottish kitty, and he gets to got to sleep-away camp at Auntie Kathryn's while I'm away in September. We are all very excited. 

Whew, what an update! I'm grateful every day for this life I have, through the great, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Thank you for your continued love and support, and as Jeff likes to say: stay positive, stay optimistic, and keep the good vibes flowing. 

Peace,

Danielle