Can NOT believe it

I have one day of treatment to go. One more day of checking in, putting on my gown, and waiting to be called. One more day of laying on that table, hands over my head, to be lazered. I am so excited!

It's slightly anti-climactic, since I have to go in Friday to meet with the neurologist...but still. :-)

Many of you have asked about the neuropathy. It is getting worse, but I am remaining hopeful it won't be permanent. I would describe its affects again--but why beat a dead horse? Most of you already know about the sore hands and feet, etc. The reason I'm seeing the neurologist is to get a thorough assessment of the problem, and ask some questions concerning long term prognosis, medication, and alternative therapy (herbs, acupuncture). I will let you know what he says. I'd like to take as little of the Lyrica as possible--the drug I take for the nerve pain. It makes me feel kind of sloooow. (yawn) And my wedding ring is permanently embedded in my finger. (swollen) But it's undeniable that it helps with the pain. I know because I have forgotten to take it. (ouch!)

But back to the way more exciting topic. The end of cancer treatment.

I have weathered the radiation very well. I am burnt, and I sit at home with my shirt unbuttoned like a garage mechanic at five pm. But my lungs don't hurt, and thus far, I don't know of any long term mal-affects.

What will I do with my freed-up time...? Recuperate. Exercise. Visit. Write. Paint. (I am repainting a piece of furniture I've always wanted to paint as soon as my skin can stand the heat.) I will not be bored.

Being finished with treatment...being cancer-free...I can't describe the feeling. I feel happy. Relieved. Almost elated. But there's also this odd sensation. Imagine you just gave a speech. Then you asked your audience, "Any questions?" and no one had any. You're finished with your speech, though. So you just kind of...fade out. "Ok. Well, thanks."

Yes, that's it. A strange odd finish to a huge undertaking. No drum roll. No big goodbyes with your doctors and nurses. Just life as usual. Just walking out of the building, others walking in, like every other day, except today your treatment is done.

It's odd. But it's really, really good.

What a difference a day can make

First of all, thanks to the friends and family that responded to my last blog, giving me "permission" to feel sad, mad, and basically out of kilter. I really needed that. I'd been trying so hard not to break--though I saw myself in such disrepair I belonged in a junk yard.

But after I gave in to the breakdown, after I prayed, and listened to wise counsel, and heard from Him, things changed.

Let me explain. It's about "Truth," and how the way we perceive it affects our attitudes. See, if you change your perspective, just a little bit, your whole outlook can change.

Your truth can be perceived differently and still be true.

I have been physically altered, have neuropathy, have gained weight, am in pain, and am sick of all this nonsense. True.

But...as I look from another perspective....I am not my hair. I am not my boobs. I am not my running. True beauty does not come from thinness. (Though I still prefer it!) I can still walk. I can still love others. I will be done with radiation in a few weeks. I am exactly where I need to be to fulfill the story of my life, and God's perfect will for my life, and I surrender. Also True.

And for the moment anyway, I am at peace.

p.s. For details as to the way He spoke to me, email me privately.

Never claimed to be well adjusted

I am sitting here in the waiting room for my radiation treatment. The treatment itself is painless. But the result...My skin is burnt & it hurts & this is only the start of my 4th week. I keep hearing my mom in my head as she quoted a nice young therapist from Florida hospital who called her on the phone when she couldn't track mom down any other way. :-) "radiation sucks," she said. "It sucks sucks sucks sucks sucks." (at this point mom took the receiver away from her head and ogled it in wonder)

But the woman was right. Kind of.

To be perfectly honest, this is not an easy time for me & radiation is only part of the puzzle.

I've hesitated to write this in my blog because it is personal and it makes me feel vulnerable, but it's part of it. This is so hard. It is. I'm sure I should be feeling ok by now. Settling into my own skin. And I try. And many times, when I am sitting, talking with someone or doing something, I forget. Then I stand up & can't walk because my feet hurt & I shuffle along, feet & hips like a 90 year old & you can bet I remember. Last night I woke to the sound of my cat yowling outside. She's a true "scaredy cat," and I didn't want her to get into it with whatever critter was threatening her, so I bounded out of bed & shuffled as fast as I could to the stairs then worked my way down the stairs, holding the rail so I wouldn't tumble to the landing. And I remembered.

The chemo was ok. The radiation is ok. The after effects are another story. With chemo, it's this neuropathy. I just can't believe this is my body! Who knows what the radiation will leave me with.

I already know what the surgery left me with.

The surgery & the changes to my body & my physical weakness & frailty--these things make me sad. I wish I was better adjusted. I do. I wish I could get used to looking at myself in the mirror. I wish I didn't mind the flab. I wish I could deal with this neuropathy without complaining. I wish I could just bloom where I'm planted. But so far, I can't. As days go by, you'd think I'd improve. But I'm not really. I'm not my normal self. I don't feel normal. I feel really really upset. Every day.

I think when the radiation is through & I start to heal , & my hair is back, & if I lose the gut and the new cellulite, & if my hands & feet stop hurting & I quit dropping everything I will start to feel better. But right now, I feel like doodoo.

I'm sure other people go through this & come out fine. My mom did for instance. Surgery didn't seem to effect her at all--She just took it in stride.

I'll get there. There is no other alternative. But for now, this is how I feel, & even as I write this, I know most reading will not really understand. Not really. And truthfully, I hope you never have to.

wondering what's on the other side

Hi there. I've wanted to post an update, but I've hesitated to do so because I'm not too sure I want to put all that's running through my head down. Let me try to muddle through.

Radiation is going well. My skin is turning pinker as anticipated and predicted. It makes it easier to put the ointment in the right place. :-) I get fatigued, and come home and crash sometimes. I try to do too much and find myself cranky and wondering why I'm cranky, then I realize I am past my limit. I trudge up the stairs, eyeing the growing piles of dog hair with contempt. I remind myself having the hair is worth it--I love my black dog club so much. I just wish they'd keep their hair! I don't want it! I wander around on the look out for cat pee, hoping it isn't there because I am too tired to clean it. (Remember I have the crazy cats that like to pee inside whenever possible making any kind of rug or carpet impossible. I can't stop them and I can't give them away and I can't kill them. Can I? Just kidding. Anyone want a cat?)

I am sad my mom had such a bad reaction to her radiation. She had to be admitted to the hospital to get all her systems working together for her good. Oddly, I did enjoy the time spent with her and my sisters in the hospital. As my mother-in-law says, It's a foul wind that doesn't blow someone some good.

Speaking of which, the lady who checked me in for my surgery who had lovely nails and who gave chemo the credit for said nails, evidently wasn't joshing. I have pretty nails for the first time in my life not counting acrylics. I keep waiting for them to go back to the way they used to be, but they just keep growing. :-)

I am stretching out my arms and shoulders daily and gaining range of motion and strength. My physical therapist says I can cut down to one day a week with her 'cuz I am doing "amazing." I am so happy and proud. Can't you just see my silly little grin? I love to be told I am doing a good job. :-) Especially as I am obsessive about my exercise and following directions to a tee.

As the fears of lymph-edema fade for now, the increasing severity of my chemo induced neuropathy sucks the joy from my victory. My feet hurt, like someone beat the soles, and it is terrible to step on the floor in the morning when I wake. I am like a freakin invalid walking down the stairs to make the coffee. Morning is the worst time. It does get better as the day goes on. My hands hurt. Like I've been gripping something really tightly for hours the day before and now I'm sore. I drop things. Light things--not heavy thank goodness. Plastic cups just slip away from my fingers like Styrofoam coffee cups with static. My toothbrush ejects from my fingers as I brush my teeth. Richard just looks at me, as I look at him, and bend over to retrieve it.

When I get up from a seated position, and my feet hurt, I think how the hell am I going to work? How will I walk in my princess pumps at work? How will I stand working twelve hour days--even in my ugly in-flight shoes? (non flight attendants, in-flight shoes are the ugly black flats we stews change into during the flight when no one's looking)

I wonder anxiously if I can work while taking the medicine I take for the neuropathy? Without it, I can't function. But I suspect it's on the no-go list. I tell myself not to worry; the neuropathy will fade. God, I hope it does. I pray it does. I really do.

Speaking of the medicine, guess what? My favorite topic. Weight gain. Yup, it makes you fat.

This just keeps getting better.

Or maybe everything is exactly the same, and isn't that just ridiculous? I'm fighting for my life, and I'm still worried about getting fat, being able to use my body as I see fit, and getting published. Speaking of which, I got another agent rejection in my electronic mailbox. She'd requested two "fulls" (publishing speak, that means I gave her the premises and she asked to see two of my books in their entirety. Asking for a full means the agent/editor means business.) Alas, she passed on signing me.

I wish I could say I am taking all of this in stride, with a smile on my face. But I'm not. Thank God, He makes every day new. For Richard's sake, if not my own, I will practice smiling today and see if tomorrow a great big toothy smile sticks.

Even thinking of smiling like that makes me smile. Isn't that weird? Tata, friends.