Crying has become more frequent, fear has become more ferocious, pain has become a part of daily life, discomfort has become almost unbearable due to my bloated stomach suffocating my lungs and my bloated legs feeling like I'm walking on pain censored cushions, more food is coming back up than going down, my appearance could be best described as an 8 month pregnant skeleton with tree stumps for legs, doesn't that just wanna make you swipe right boys?
So it would seem this bastard has got me. I have fought since September 2013, from the very moment I was told it was back and I would be lucky to make months, I fought and I fought hard. All of the times I was told you won't see tomorrow, you won't see Christmas, I defied the odds and a few clinicians have had to eat their words.
I've tried my hardest to outrun this bastard, but, not this time, it seems that damn shoelace I tripped over at the 10km line has allowed my killer to catch up. I can feel the air at my back from him swooshing his scythe at me and I'm quite certain one day soon he'll get me, I simply don't have the confidence this time that things will get better, they're not,they're remaining the same or in fact getting worse.
It's been a terribly steep decline in the last few weeks, I feel like I'm in one of those luge things from the Winter Olympics, just racing down hill, with little to no control over what happens and how fast I go. My disease is taking me on this ride with nowhere to go other than down. I keep getting these messages to embrace God or your faith and this whole process will become easier and if I don't accept him into my heart now, he may not accept me into his when it's my time to knock on the pearly white gates; yet another image that's been imprinted in my mind since I was a child.
I cannot help my fear, nor can I control it and nor should people be judgemental about how "I" deal with "My" inevitable death. We are all entitled to deal with this in our own way. There is no right or wrong, if you think Reiki is your path to spiritual healing, good on you or if you're an atheist, who am I to judge you for not believing, when I am unsure myself of my own belief. I know what I want to believe and I so greatly want this unwavering faith and confidence that it will come to fruition.
My symptoms are pretty much the same as they were Sunday, big swollen legs from the cancer stealing my protein from me (there's so much fluid that when I inject my pain relief it pierces little holes allowing fluid to escape and it doesn't stop leaking,it just keeps going, like piercing a water bed) and causing fluid retention, stomach full of cancer and this time bloated with a lot of ascites (a fluid that builds up, due to the disease), I can't eat without regurgitating and my cancer is eating all or any of my nutrients that I'm lucky to ingest.
I know I'm dying, I still haven't accepted it and I'm still scared shitless, but I know I'm closer to death than I've ever been before. This death doesn't just affect me though, it affects all those around me, you fabulous rockstars and others that I come in contact with on a daily basis.
When I was in the hospital, I was surrounded by death and on one occasion I was informing my family that the young guy next door had died overnight and that a lot of the patients were dying, next thing Ava speaks up "Are you dying Lisa?", I didn't know whether to just bite the bullet and I looked at her Mum and Dad to try to sense what they were feeling, so I just blurted out "Yes Bubba, Aunty Lisa is going to die, but remember when I do, I'll be up in the sky at night, I'll be a star and I'll make sure you'll never be scared". Ava listened intently and then she sort of nervously giggled and replied "you're silly Lisa" and I asked "Why?", to which she replied "No Lisa you're not going to be in the sky, because you're going to get better, I want you to get better, so you won't be a star". Out of the mouths of babes, as they say.
I'm now at home struggling every night to organise my pillows and me into a semi comfy position in bed, one that lets me breathe, doesn't make me regurgitate as much, one that allows me to elevate my legs for the swelling and so on and so on. Thank God I don't have a boyfriend, my pillows would seriously see more action than he would.
My bestie Rebecca and her housemate Chuck from Sydney dropped in and spent a couple of nights and Bec and I did our usual, talk for 10 hours and then realise it's bedtime. My friend Nicole popped in, also from Sydney and I got to play with her baby girl and bitch about all the things we hate about humanity, that's what Nicole and I do, we have done in fact since she found out that I had been "intimate" with my boyfriend, which she thought was hilarious at the time, funnily enough I had the same reaction when it happened, just kidding, I'd hate to bruise someone's ego. I mean in reality your first time usually resembles a Tour de France pile up, there's usually no bedroom and often a pile of drunk people cheering you on from the sidelines, first times often aren't the most romantic, at least I can say I had a bed and no onlookers; I was classy. Unfortunately though, I ended up paying for it and I am physically and emotionally drained. I have now asked mum to give me a week without visitors, as I end up doing more than I should. I know I'm like the Queen, I request an audience when I want one.
It's amazing how the world listens sometimes, you ask and you shall receive, as I was tapping away at this blog, I received a phone call from my Pall Doctor.....she's amazing by the way and she advised me that I was able to get my pelvic ascites drained in hospital on Monday and to prevent having to be admitted again I can have a semi permanent catheter inserted, meaning when the fluid returns I can drain the fluid from home. We think there'll be about 7-8 litres drained over a couple of days in hospital. So I'm hoping this will ease my current discomfort, as right now I honestly feel like I looked at Ronda Rousey the wrong way and she's pounced on me in the toilets, EVERY DAY!!!
Anyway upon closing, my friend Bec gave Mum and I a worry doll each, you tell her your worries, put it under your pillow and it takes your worries away. Mum being mum, she heard "wish" doll, so the following morning Miss Ava was in Mums bedroom and saw the doll. Ava asked Mum what the doll was and Mum replied "it's a wish doll bubba, you tell it your wish and it will grant it". Ava picked the doll up and said "I wish that my Nanna was happy and that Lisa's belly gets better". What a beautiful story to wake up to, that kid just rips my heart out.
So fabulous rockstars at the beginning of this blog I was down and out and by the end, although I'm still in the exact same discomfort, my hope has improved, maybe we can all learn something from this and Dad I promise I'm not ready for palliative sedation yet. Stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼
A few photos from the last few days ❤🤘🏼
My name is Lisa Magill and I have been navigating the minefield that is cancer since just months after turning 30, people have been saying to me for years that I should put my thoughts into writing and as time has progressed I thought I had left it too late, well here we are nearly 4 years in and for some unknown reason I've decided to start to write today.