My Mt. Everest

Three months is a long time. A long time in any life, practically a season, and a long time to be away from this space. I didn’t really go anywhere, but I feel like I’ve been on a long journey.

Just after I posted the last time, I was told that I needed more chemotherapy. Three more rounds, to see if we could improve the results. That I needed the extra treatments at all was hard news — hadn’t I already done everything humanly possible? — but the treatments themselves seemed to take everything out of me. I thought I’d gotten away without experiencing really severe fatigue, but there I was, having to go back to bed after doing something as simple as making a cup of tea. I went to work, barely, and the stairs up to my apartment became my one goal for the day: could I climb Mt. Everest one more time?

But look, here I am, living to tell the tale. I did it. I got the good news about my latest scans on my birthday, and I celebrated by going to the ocean. I had to stay up on the dune because the sand was just too soft to navigate, but I went there, and I had a good cry and a nice time.

I’ve been told that I’m brave and strong, and I suppose I might be. But every person who does this, this chemotherapy and cancer treatment, is extraordinary. It’s done quietly, somewhere, every day, by brave people who want to live. I am honored to be in such good company!

My knitting has suffered quite a bit these past few months. It seems that I did get a burst of energy at one point, because I spun up some Foxfire Cormo/Silk roving.

I cast on this little scarf in the middle of March, and worked on it while I was being pumped with toxic chemicals. Before long I had a nice warm springtime scarf, which I wore a lot, since our spring is notoriously slow to show herself.

Other than this one little bit, no knitting has been seen in my hands for a long time. I’m still surrounded by it — just the other day I shook the dust off the beginnings of a nice shawl — but I haven’t been inspired to knit. I think that will change soon. My energy is returning, slowly but steadily, and my brain is clearing, along with the blurry vision that was a temporary side effect of one of the chemo drugs.

I’m sure I’ll get back to knitting before long — and back to many other things, as well!

7:30pm Edited to add: I just got home from my b’day dinner at Judy’s house, where what we were really celebrating was that I can look forward to more birthdays. I think it’s beginning to sink in…

38 thoughts on “My Mt. Everest

  1. I am not a knitter but I am a cancer survivor. So glad to hear from you again I think of you and other cancer sufferers every day. I’m hoping that you will recover soon and get your strength back. God Bless and keep you in His Gentle Hands.

    Like

  2. It really struck me when you said that chemo is done quietly and everyday by people. I think that’s something we all need to remember. I’m glad you’re back and hope you continue to grow stronger.

    Like

  3. Hello…It’s always wonderful to hear good news!I like what you share and congratulations on your recovery.all the best wishesRibbon

    Like

  4. What a wonderful thing to find you had posted, thankyou. Best wishes from here, and looking forwrds to sharing more fab stuff with you via your blog.Take much care.J.

    Like

  5. dear, sweet Jane – so many hugs go out your way!More birthdays is indeed a grand thing to celebrate!! And I will be doing the happy dance in your honor out here on the other coast.Such beautiful spinning you have done – and your scarf a gorgeous testimony to your courage.It’s wonderful to see you here again – your gorgeous photos, and the good news of your improving health. I’ve missed you.

    Like

  6. Hello Jane! Seeing your pictures and your words makes me smile. I value your eloquence and honesty and insight. You are right, every day somewhere in the world, a quiet host of brave people with a desire to live do exactly what you’ve done. I appreciate the reminder.And what exquisite poetry, your spinning! A perfect match of worthy materials and worthy hands.Welcome back into the sunlight, dear Jane.

    Like

  7. I’m so glad to see you back. I may not personally know you but I was worried by your absence. My best friend was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer a year ago and is still fighting the good fight and I am so proud of him! And I am proud of you and hope this is the last of the treatments and you can go on living your life as you want.

    Like

  8. I’m glad to see that you’re back! I, too, was worried by your absence. I’m glad your on this side of treatments and that you had a wonderful birthday celebration. I’m sure that the knitting bug will be biting soon! =)

    Like

  9. I am SO glad you’re back! And so glad that you received good news after the latest bout of treatment, and that you got to the beach and also that you had a good cry – that in itself is healing.L’chaim, sister! L’chaim!

    Like

  10. I have been checking your bookmarked blog every few days, scanning it hopefully for a new entry–this one has made my day. It is lovely to have you back, see your photos, and read your exquisite writing. I hope that you are as rejuvenated as our earth in spring. Blessings.

    Like

  11. Jane – Happy belated birthday! I am happy to read your good news. Love the color and texture of your scarf, I bet there will be more to come!

    Like

  12. Congratulations Jane on this birthday and all of the many birthdays to come. You are an inspiration to so many. And don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of time to get back up to knitting speed before the KR retreat!

    Like

  13. Glad you are feeling better. Hoping for many more years of knitting ahead, in better health!I’m five years in the clear this year, but never have had to suffer chemo. Wishing you a quick return to pre-chemo energy levels and great followup scans!Fellow endo ca survivor Emily

    Like

Comments are closed.