This Thursday, August 4,
will be three months since Pia flew the coop.
As expected, I have mixed feelings about the whole missing a boob and no
treatment thing. Humor me for a moment I
as I focus on the serious aspect of this cancer shit crap.
Serious aspect of said
cancer shit crap:
I actually have been
working on this blog for a while now. In
my mind, there is a very fine line between being informative and just whining. I have written, rewritten, deleted this so
many times my head is spinning. Yet I
keep coming back as I think it is worth sharing. For the record, I am not whining.
The other day, I was asked
if I was “over my cancer yet?” I had one of my few and very far between
silent attacks and was unable to form an answer befitting the question. I don’t
even remember if I replied; I was too busy trying to wrap my brain around what
over meant. As I started to wrap it, the
question started to piss me off. It
sounded as if getting over cancer was as easy as getting over a cold or
cough. Really??!! Here is your answer and I sure wish I had
thought of it sooner as the answer is so simple. No, I am not over my cancer and I doubt I will
ever be. It is always there, lurking in
the shadows. Each and every time you
feel something different, you worry.
Every time you take a test, you worry.
Does it get easier? Yes, it
does. As time goes on, it fades further
and further into the background. Then BAM!
You expect certain places to bring it all back—the doctor’s office, the
mammogram machine. But it happens more
so with simple, everyday tasks, such as driving past a doctor’s office, finding
a card tucked away, having a wig fall on you when looking for a blanket and
even visiting someone in the hospital and finding out they are on the 10th
floor. I can proudly say I now
look in the mirror at the area formally known as Pia and instead of saying
dammit I miss my boob, I shake my head and usually mutter, you wanted it
smaller…so there. The mind is a funny
thing. One moment you are good with it
all and in the next you are shaken to your core. Go figure.
Now I will tackle that
thin line. Physical tolls. Talk about
things that suck. Some are visible and
some are invisible. The visible is
easy. The boob is gone, never to return
and I am good with it. Of course I have
Penny which helps to fill in when she needs to.
For the record, there are days in which she is a pain in the ass. She is 1.3 pounds—yup I went there—and part
of the area formally known as Pia is numb—so a bra is just annoying. I do my best to wear shirts in which my
booblessness is not as noticeable and at this point, I really do not care.
However, it is the
invisible aches and pains which are the hardest to deal with. I actually feel guilty when I can’t do things
I used to be able to do. Then again, I
have accepted the fact that this might be it and I just have to adapt. Let me explain in a little more detail. First
off, radiation shredded my pectoral muscle, so I have been dealing with upper
right arm issues on and off for the past 4 years. Since the first surgery, I have dealt with a searing
pain in my right arm pit (sorry, could not figure out a way to describe that
one) which can bring me to my knees and tears to my eyes. Up until the mastectomy, it happened once in a
great while but since it has increased dramatically. Although it just sometimes happens for no
reason, I have narrowed some of it down to a few every day normal tasks. Chopping, cutting and twisting seem to be the
worse culprits (I have no problem paying for pecan pieces now or asking a 4
year old to open a water bottle). And
for some reason, for the past few months I have been having lower arm aches
with no clue what is causing it, but I am leaning towards the medication I am
on. It is from my elbow to the wrists
and if I had not had that plain and boring PET scan, I would be worrying it was
something else. But since it is
bilateral (I love that word), no one seems to be too worried at this point,
including myself. Of course I have
voiced to a certain good Dr that it is hard to pick up a cup while I am driving
and she had the nerve to roll her eyes.
I should have started off with I have issues driving, which is the
truth. At times I feel I am lucky to
make it the 45 minute drive to Wilmington.
Very annoying as I am used to just upping and going. As for the new medication, it is the menopausal
version of tamoxifen and for some reason instead of just the side effects just staying
the same; they have to get worse before they get better. This includes the finger cramps which makes
playing Candy Crush difficult. The last,
but certainly not the least toll, the fatigue factor. While
I am back to working mostly full time, I am done by the end of the day. Heck, I am done by 1pm. I have had people suggest that I exercise and
I will feel better. Um really?! Not to sound ungrateful for your wonderful
suggestion, but it is not that simple.
Mornings are difficult as I move like a 90 year old—I am that stiff and
achy. As for the nights, I am done when
I get home. Done. But I do appreciate the kindness behind the
suggestions. Please do not take it
personally if I ever let the live in my body for a few days comment slip. Unless you are Billy. I voiced that loud and clear the other
night. I think he got the point.
And that my friends, ends
the looks can be deceiving lesson.
So here are some fun
things just because….
·
I was in the
hallway at church and saw a friend I had not seen in awhile. Since she has the same type of humor, I told
her to touch it (Penny). So she does and says how real it feels. That was when I told her it was the real
one.
·
Penny can be
misplaced. Trust me on this.
·
Someone asked me
if I missed my boob. And was
serious. I asked her if she would miss
hers. She said yes. I said well then,
there is your answer. I might or might
not have muttered dumbass.
·
Someone asked me
if I was depressed. I told them I was
deflated. They had no clue. None at all.
What a waste of a great comeback.
James 1: 1-5
