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.