What could I possibly say about 2022? So many things. Good things, bad things, indifferent things.
In preparation for the end of the year, I got a haircut. I’m so grateful for Theresa’s creative and beautiful work!
Then I got to cuddle on the sofa with my love to watch a movie, like a mini-date night!
And we finally watched the ball drop with the kids for the first time! What a fun treat!
Goodbye 2022!
Yesterday was Boxing Day. I know it has nothing to do with the sport of boxing, but I felt like I was in a match. I spent the day doing nothing. My body was incredibly wiped from the day before, recovering from all the activity. Today was much of the same. In fact, I didn’t leave my bed before noon.
My stomach still aches with reflux and has trouble digesting, my taste buds defy me and make everything taste horrible, and my eye is so swollen from the dry eye that it’s sore if I close it tightly. But the harder part is the mental load of these symptoms. See, I’m “cancer free” but still in treatment, still healing from my surgery, still struggling with these side effects. My eyes are so dry I haven’t been able to shed a tear in a month! I haven’t been able to feel my feelings. And I’m scared…
I start work next week, full time, feet to the fire, and yet I can barely get myself off the sofa. My desire to stay alive is so strong, yet my drive to live is weak. And that scares me. I don’t recognize myself right now. From the outside looking in, I look lazy, wasting time, doing nothing. I keep judging myself. But I’m tired, deeply tired inside. My breathing is slow, my appetite is weak, my stamina is nonexistent. The person I was, the things I did, they feel like a distant memory, and yet they haunt me, taunting me to get up and exercise like I used to, or even approach life with the joie de vivre I’ve always had. I’m more melancholy and indifferent. And I wish I wasn’t. I just can’t seem to help what’s happening to me, and everyone says to show myself grace…and I do…but every time I open that door, I keep losing a part of myself. I’m in the cocoon and I’ve become that gooey stuff. I’m no longer a caterpillar and not yet a butterfly. I’m just mush. I think I need to start talking to a therapist…I have so much to process.
I said to Matt last night that I just want to turn a corner without getting mugged.
I barely ate today for fear of getting sick again. My stomach was pained but got a tiny bit better as the day went on. I had my echocardiogram and thankfully my heart looks healthy and strong. That’s one positive piece of news.
I was also visited by a friend bearing gifts, many gifts from my students at school, and this beautiful homemade gift from her. Thank you my friend! I’m touched that my students even remember me at this point! It will be fun getting to know them again in January.
I have a lot on my mind, and I’m making an effort to ensure my mind/body connection is healthy and secure. I need to be as whole again as I can be when I return to work. Will I be rid of digestive troubles? Maybe not. Will all of my long term side effects suddenly disappear? No, not likely. But being present right now keeps worry and fear at bay. That’s the best I can do.
I'll never forget that time in high school calculus class. My teacher was giving each student a name based on rules in calculus. One student was tangent, another student was cosine, another was L'Hopital. The teacher looked at me, paused for a second, and called me enigma. I didn't fully know what that meant at the time, but I see now that the enigma or existential quantification means "there is at least one" and that's been the story of my life...it doesn't happen to everyone, but there is at least one, and it's usually me. Like the time I spent four hours in the ER because the doctor was worried it was my gallbladder that was giving me such intense pain in my side. Nope, just a pulled muscle apparently.
I woke up very early this morning with a headache and stomach ache. I spent time with Dr. Google, explaining my symptoms in detail, and I came to the conclusion that it all adds up to severe reflux - the stomach pains and bloat, the full feeling, the sore throat, the jaw/teeth pain, the headaches, the tight chest - it turns out in rarer cases (yep, that's me) that reflux even affects the eyes causing dry eye, swelling, and clogged tear ducts (did I mention that when I cried last night, nothing came out of my eyes?!). So I got out of bed, drank some baking soda with water, and took a nap in my recliner. I felt better, enough to warrant at least eating a banana. I went to my physical therapy appointment and retreated back to my sofa to rest, but the stomach pain continued. Finally when I couldn't take the hunger any more, I ate a slice of toast with a scrambled egg.
Fast forward to this evening. Sitting on the sofa, watching TV, when all of a sudden I got that taste in my mouth, you know, that metallic taste that means you better run. Straight to the bathroom, and I vomited everything... yes, everything from the whole day, and maybe from the day before. Six rounds of chemo and I never threw up once... why now? Enigma. Where did the reflux come from? Enigma. When will it go away? I don't know.
Tomorrow I get another echocardiogram, praying that my heart is still strong. My spirit is feeling a little battered at the moment, just trying to keep my head up.
More pet therapy needed.
Today was like all the other days. Headache, ice, massage, rest. Rinse and repeat. I added some pet therapy to the equation.
I also added a meeting with my dietitian. We talked about the progress I've made throughout this whole experience and how to keep moving forward. She and I have been meeting since before my diagnosis. At the time, I turned to her for ways to make better food choices, particularly around binge eating. But she has been a light on this path, guiding me through my chemo eating troubles and helping me make important connections between food, emotions, stress, and peace. Today I talked about how frustrated I am about not having my taste buds back and having near constant stomachaches since Friday and how this experience has been teaching me big lessons, such as, I don't need that much food and I don't have to be sad about it, that I won't be able to go back to the person I was before cancer and that's okay, that the fears that I have around reoccurrence, weight gain, lymphedema, etc. are perfectly rational fears but I don't have to live in fear...
So my homework today was (1) spend time in my journal processing my feelings, (2) extend grace to myself because this isn't a little thing to go through, and (3) give myself short term goals around food, I don't have to plan for forever.
Thank you Heather. This is my small and satisfying dinner - BBQ salmon, rice with quinoa, and broccoli. Now I will go and write and cry...
I was so happy to be back in my bed, back with my pillows, back with Matt. I slept through the night which is everyone’s dream. But I woke up at 6 am to another massive headache. I stretched and massaged and cried. And then I went back to sleep. I awoke still feeling the sting of whatever is bothering me. I started to feel like Dr. House, looking at my symptoms and trying to come up with a diagnosis. The scalp pain, the neck pain, the sore throat, the swollen eye, the reflux, the constipation…none of it makes sense. Neither does it make sense to my oncologist. I went for my infusion and he said my blood work looked perfect, hemoglobin back up, white counts are right, no signs of anemia or anything else. He was surprised because he expected me to come bouncing in saying I’m feeling great, no more chemo, all is right with the world. He was so excited to hear of my post surgery results, achieving a pCR, the pathological complete response. No more cancer, this is all great news! But to feel this crappy makes no sense. None whatsoever. At last we explored the idea that maybe this could be related to menopause. Hard to say for sure, the symptoms don’t add up, but there is the potential that I’ve been forced into menopause and it’s rearing it’s head, but I can’t help but think it’s a combination of post surgery pain and … well, I just don’t know. And that’s why I cried. Because my body and mind are tired of not feeling well and not knowing why. I just want to feel better already.
Next on the list, meet with the radiologist, get another echocardiogram, get another CT scan, and meet with the thoracic surgeon. No more cancer doesn’t mean no more fuss…still a long road ahead of me.
In the meantime, I’ve been spending extra time with my best friend (apologies to my real best friends!). Anything to help me get through this.
I couldn’t wait to go to my first physical therapy session. I needed to break out of this slump, literally. I’ve been bracing myself and guarding my wound so much that it’s made me stiff and immovable.
The physical therapist assessed the area and took some baseline measurements for lymphedema. She measured my fingers, wrists, all the way up my arms. Apparently I’m doing alright, except for in my armpit area. She said this is typically a much more tender spot to heal than the breast itself. There is a lot of fluid built up that needed to be rubbed away towards the lymphatic system, so I laid down for her to massage my arm, armpit, and breast. It was definitely a challenge to have someone press, albeit gently, against my incisions, but I know it needed to be done. And she sent me home with homework to do these massages twice a day along with some other stretching exercises to help regain my range of motion. I really want to get stronger, heal (in the right time), and get back to doing some very normal things like lifting literally anything with my left arm without pain. Here goes nothing…
I was talking to my mom earlier and I realized I was not only talking with my hands but they were up high in the air. I immediately apologized and told her I wasn’t yelling at her with my hands, I just had them raised because I couldn’t really put my arm down!
I am still very sore and swollen, much more than I thought I would be at this point. The naproxen is helping to keep the headaches and aching pain at bay temporarily, but I can’t fully drop my shoulder because of the arm pain in the back and lumpy swelling in the front. I feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, hobbling across my house and grunting in agony
Thankfully I received a call today from a physical therapy office at the request of my surgeon, and thank God not a moment too soon. They want to do an assessment for lymphedema therapy, so I am going tomorrow! Hopefully I will learn more how to get over this swelling and pain and find some relief on the other side.
In the meantime, I keep the ice on and hopes up.
Today was my appointment with the breast surgeon. I was looking forward to seeing her and having her remove the bandages.
Yesterday proved to be quite an uncomfortable day, but today I felt much better. I could finally say I’m turning a corner, and while it’s still painful to the touch and I cannot lift anything of significant weight on that side, I don’t have the same throbbing pain I’ve had for days.
I cannot believe how the week has gone by; it was only yesterday in my mind I was praying and crying for safety through this surgery. Now here I am five days later like it was a distant memory.
Time really does fly. This was me, about seven months ago, the day after my 44th birthday. I had no idea what was happening inside of me; I was blissfully unaware. Like a thief in the night, I was violated by cancer and my whole world turned upside down and inside out. Now this is me, after six rounds of chemo and a lumpectomy. I have parts of me now missing, and my mind changed about life in many ways, but my spirit is intact. I do not take this precious life for granted and pray for many, many more days ahead.
