You know that song when I’m 64 by the Beatles, well they were off by 40 years because I feel like I’m 104. Cancer therapy is a bitch! As Armando would say in his broken english “I cry, I cry”. Just typing this after my third hot bath soak, today hurts. Whine whine whine…Oh poor pitiful me! I wish it was wine wine wine, give me Rombauer, Frank family, anything from Italy…Instead it’s meds meds meds. Where is my sense of humor? Not much seems funny, I feel like a wounded animal that wants to crawl under the deck and lick my wounds. I have my brief moments where I put on a hat and a pretty dress, I try to enjoy this life of farawayness. That is me far away from you. (Tears down cheeks)
As strange as it seems or as much as I whine considering what I am going through physically I am doing great! LOL, no really I am! I think. What else are you going to do but get up each day and do as much as you can under the circumstances. Most of the time I don’t know what the circumstances are untill they hit me in the gut or the feet which ever comes first, but I know there is always tomorrow and when this is all over. Brings to mind that stupid saying “This too shall pass”, must say I’m tired of hearing that. Yes it is passing… right out my a–! ( Sorry couldn’t help myself )
Not nearly as many bald women as I has thought there would be…other than the women at the chemo center the only one I have seen was in the dog park and she informed me it was not due to chemo but that she was “Butch” (Lesbian for those of you who don’t know the term.) Someone told me Washington D.C. is filled with bald women. Strangers like to comment “You look beautiful” “How are you doing” “My daughter (wife Etc.) is going through the same thing” Etc. Not fun to be bald, not a badge of honour as some women have said they feel. Wig is hot, wig makes a rash, wig feels like I am a different person. Hat on, hat off, hat on, hat off, hat on, hat off. Hat off feels better but then I feel like I look like a sick person. Which I am, LOL.
Can’t wait for the other side…the other side of cancer that is. I feel much like a monk in my own little world trying to live amongst the rest of the world marching to a different beat. I long to be like I was yet I must do my time. I feel bad for Miranda (My daughter) having to bare the brunt of the change in Mom. It’s she and I, day in and day out. I try hard to fake it, to shine despite my waning self but I know she (Tears down cheeks) has to suffer the most along with me. Hopefully we can see Paris together when this is over.
“How are you” “What is it like” “Is it like you imagined it would be” Question questions questions, how to answer the questions. Each day would have a different answer and when this is all over I will have a different answer I’m sure. For me the most surprising part is the “farawayness”. Partly because some physical items have me distracted, partly because of worry due to financial issues or worry that something pressing has not been tended to. This too shall pass, LOL.
I have ten golden toes and I am thankful. Got a pedicure with Miranda and painted them bright shiny gold, was told not to by the doctors due to infections etc., but I did it any way and am so glad I did. I soaked the extremely painful little buggers for the third time today in the tub and they looked so pretty. Apparently this type od chemo therapy (Taxol) can make you finger and toe nails fall off, so I am grateful to have ten to polish thus far.
Feeling feeling feeling grateful for so many blessings from my peeps, where would I be without all of them to send good juju my way, I can’t imagine.
Well Chemo #11 tomorrow
And now for you listening pleasure a link to one of my all time favorite pieces of music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-mLkzFUzTA
(Fingers hurt too much to edit/spellcheck, sorry)