I realize you are likely wondering what the latest news is. I am sorry I have been silent, but I had to be. I ran away. Literally…and Rick was the get-away car driver. I (we), I mean, Rick, bought us some time. We left on Thurs. March 1st without any real set plan of when our return date would be. We literally planned to not have a plan, or time commitments or that more common term in our daily life lately, known as “appointments”.
The only thing we knew upon leaving life as we know it, otherwise known as reality, would be that we would be spending 5 of our days at a private, exclusive resort where mostly uber-rich people go or people like me with a forced early retirement package (ie: terminal cancer) would endulge in. Hey, we can’t take our retirement funds with us right? Thankfully I was a smart, young work-aholic before I retired at the age of 39 and saved for my golden years. We never know what the future will bring us and I certainly wasn’t anticipating this hurry up and work on your bucket list now before you run out of time arrangement.
Enough with the rambling and pity party. Let me tell you more about this buying time idea. It is called Little Palm Island, located in the Lower Florida Keys, a 15 minute boat ride from Little Torch Key. Captain Greg was our first connection to this beautiful private island surrounded by everything that one would imagine to find in paradise. I read a quote once that stated “Paradise is a state of mind” and I do agree with it, but to actually be in it also, well let’s say I am in heaven. This Earth Angel has landed and I feel so grounded. I am alive, breathing and simply being.
At many times throughout our first day on Little Palm, I have thought to myself. I need to blog, I can’t keep this paradise all to myself. I hope my chemo brain allows me to remember the stuff that I keep repeating to myself in hopes that I won’t forget. I carry a notepad with me to help me remember. Funny thing is that as I sit here working on my first post, I have my notepad with me and I haven’t yet glanced at it so see what I wrote because these words are coming from my heart and mind, right at this very moment. I will glance at my notes maybe another day. I hate that I have to remind myself of what made my heart sing at certain moments. But right now, right here I am telling you what my heart is singing and where my stage is.
I am alone. It is roughly 8 pm. It is our first night on the island. I am in what is called the Great Room. It is like a huge living room but private. This is one of the few places on the island where there is internet access so that I can write to you. It is also a library and there is one television in here. It is the only t.v. on the entire island. The suites do not have any. This is an island to unplug. There are only 30 suites on the island and they constantly remind you to unplug from life with no cell phone signs everywhere and the staff where shirts that say “Get Lost” or “Do Nothing”. I am unplugged and I have no problem turning in my cell phone to the room’s safe for the 5 days, however I can’t stay away or unplug from my fingertips to continue to heal through this keyboard. The Great Room is a small building that has a grass thatch roof and tropical decor throughout. I am seated in a comfy bamboo chaise lounge with palm tree designed cushions and a nice cozy soft blanket. I am alone.
Back to buying time. We have to return back to our reality by March 29. This is the date that I will have day surgery to have the port-a-cath put into my chest again. The original plan to deal with this cancer thing was to go directly to the operating table and my doc wanted to do this right away, and it was pencilled in for March 13. I said no thanks, way too soon, I’ve got some business to take care of first. Like how about, I am still chewing on the news of cancer’s return and can’t quite swallow it. Surgery was then rescheduled for March 26 because I said I was going away to take care of me first before I was going to take care of cancer. As I posted before, the surgery plans went out the window because it was discovered that the tumours are too big right now and we need to attempt to shrink them first. So I took matters into my own hands and I booked the date for the port-a-cath thing as to when it was convenient for my schedule. I know this might be kind of dumb, or perhaps really stupid as I am fully aware that this cancer of mine is growing day to day and yes, spreading or in medical lingo, metastising. If I hadn’t already been down this trip to cancer land before, I wouldn’t have hesitated as to the dates scheduled for my treatments, but I have been down this road and I do know that even though it’s lurking inside me and taking up camp, I do know that I am not going to expire tomorrow, or the next day or in a couple of weeks. I have time and I am going to share this precious time with my guy, my Rock, my spirit protector, my battery charger, my love. This may be our last chance to enjoy time of good health and feeling normal, and looking normal even though we both know what’s about to happen once we return home. Sure I may bounce back and be able to rejoice in another year of health, but statistics dictate that is only an 8% chance of actually happening.
When I return to writing you in my next post, I will start from the beginning of our journey to paradise. (reluctantly admitting that I must refer to my notepad/memory reminder book) We are five days into the trip now so we have a little catching up to do and then I can’t wait to write about our future days. The future sunsets and sunrises we get to enjoy, the future good feeling days to experience. Good night for now. Hugs, Karrie