Fell harder; recovered faster

Second round of chemo hit me harder, but I'm happy to report recovery was faster. That said, I confess to some unpleasant feelings when I hear: 'You're young and strong and will breeze right through this." or "I'm so glad you're sailing through it and not getting desperately ill like my friend (or mother, or father, or sister, or co-worker).

People love a good horror story. And they love comparing, labeling the stories they hear. I'm quite guilty of the same. I wonder why we do this. Perhaps it helps us conquer our own fears, or keep us in denial about facing them.

I'm profoundly grateful for the network of medical and alternative professionals who are on my team, helping me treat, heal and recover from lymphoma. In many ways, I am sailing through this. At the same time, I feel depressed, diminished when told my journey is 'a breeze' compared to so and so. Such words are more debilitating than cancer, especially when lying on the sofa, exhausted, depressed, every cell hurting, not wanting to eat or drink or move.

There is no apt description of 'bad days'. Besides the obvious: sore mouth, throat, eyes, ears, scalp, stomach lining roughed up, innards sluggish, bone aching, weakness when blood cell counts go down, there are deeper symptoms waiting, hovering, always ready to fill the soul. Discouragement, depression, anxiety, sleeplessness, giving up. Chaos is SO much easier then order. It takes more effort to live in the moment, embracing whatever the moment holds, than to wish-ache-long for-insist upon a better moment, or to succumb to fear of the future. It takes more grace to be positive, aware, grateful, alive, than to descend into discouragement.

A short, slow walk after chemo is harder than a vigorous hike. When legs ache and move like jelly, when the core of the body is hollow rather than supportively strong, simple movement becomes another challenge. It takes effort to organize thoughts when chemo turns brain function into a hazy mist. Prednisone makes me moody, hungry, achy, and then when stopped after five days, body pain and depression hits like a tsunami. Chemo is like PMS, or menopause to the 100th power. Every man who lives with a woman, during hormonal tsunami knows not to be patronizing, not to say, you only have eight bad days compared to some who suffer for three weeks.

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I love the snow this week. I managed a walk down the snowy pasture yesterday, the dogs so delighted to see me they ran tail-wagging circles around me. The good days have started early, and are so good, I'm planning to go to school for two days to see how I fare. I will don mask and gloves if I hear one cough or sniffle.

The good days make drinking wormish, dirtish tasting Goldenseal and Vicks tasting stillingia almost bearable. I discovered if we don't juice an apple with the cabbage-parsley-cilantro-cucumber-celery-carrot concoction, I can drink without gagging. Somehow the sweet apple taste in a glass of green is just wrong! I'm so grateful to this alternative support. I'm having more good days because of such support and from all the prayer, love, help I'm receiving. It takes a village to cure cancer.

Sisters came this week to grocery shop, clean, sort my clothes, help me try on scarves and hats. What a blessing! Going through my closet brings joy and sorrow. New clothes that fit after losing 25lbs are such a morale boost, but parting with old favorites takes a sister who speaks truth and then yanks them from your clutching hands! Pulling on one black dress, I look down at myself, delighted with the fit though the tag says two sizes too big.

"You're not looking at this," Mim says pointing to darts. "The bust line is down near your belly button." Deflated, I argue.

“I think it looks good!" I twirl and turn, looking down at myself.

"Stop looking down! Look up at yourself in the mirror. Your boobs are supposed to be filling out this part." She grabs a handful of empty fabric, pulls it up, waves it under my nose, then lets go for full effect. I look up into the mirror as the fabric drops.

My hopeful face, her determination, and the saggy, empty darts swinging below my rib cage doubles me over. I'm too weak to laugh like this!

Joyfully,
Sharon

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You can kid the world. But not your sister. ~Charlotte Gray

Sisters is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but once the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship. ~Margaret Mead

The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble. ~Clara Ortega

Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet. ~Vietnamese Proverb