Now, as my second ever PET scan looms nearer I find myself casting a curious, sidelong glance at the closed doors of that closet of unspoken, unfulfilled dreams. Could it be? Is it possible that my circumstances will change significantly enough that I can believe in those dreams again? Or will I look back on these moments and consider myself foolish and naïve for dreaming I could dream them again.
The one marked “career” has already made its escape from the forgotten closet. To have this dream dusted off only to be crushed by an untimely relapse seemed less emotionally taxing than for some of the others. At first tentative, and now strengthened by time and clear scans, I have made progress and gotten a few critical people on board with me creating a year-long post-doctoral clinical fellowship at a cancer center in Nashville. We are strategizing together to get the remaining parties on board but are hopeful that it will happen soon. A career founded on shaping and participating in the support and care of the many others facing this most significant health and life battle is something I am well prepared to allow to take shape. An old dream, reformatted.
And then there’s that one dream. The one purposely packed on the bottom of the stack, weighted down by many others so I won’t think too lightly about rebrandishing it. This one simply has “family” scrawled on it. The contents are rather amorphous and have changed a lot over the past year, even without allowing myself to fully discuss or consider them. Many have told me to let this one go. After all, I already have a wonderful husband and a son that makes my heart sick with his sweetness. Several oncologists have told me that getting pregnant again could be the catalyst for a virulent and untreatable relapse which would at best put me in the same position I was in last year. However, it is the other shapes this could take that really intrigue me. Things like adoption, fostering or even “gestational surrogacy”—although this last one carries with it a lot of controversy. Gestational surrogacy is the fascinating science of another woman carrying our own genetic child. What a complex situation but what a gift that would be. And it is about this moment, just when I start to imagine what that would be like, that I remember my reality. Most often, I remember that it might mean leaving my grieving husband with not only one but two children to care for. Then I shake the thoughts from my head and file the dream back in the closet and close the doors.
My PET scan is in one month. If it is clear, we will discuss going off of immunotherapy and switch to “watchful waiting.” Scans every three months. And if so – when, then, am I allowed to dream? Will I ever feel that I have the right? How long until I know I will “make it?” Will it always feel foolish to dream – my life forevermore constrained and tied up in three month increments? A better question might be – what is stopping me from dreaming? Dreaming and planning make up some of the most joyful parts of life. As I have written previously, plans are a luxury. Dreams, then, are the whipped cream on top of that luxury. Or perhaps more appropriately, they are the vast and endless waters that plans are plucked from. But really, the only one that is stopping me from dreaming – is me. Sometimes, we need to be the ones to grant ourselves the permission to dream.