From the Chair #3

Been two months and two days since I’ve posted. Not cause I didn’t want to mainly just cause I really didn’t have anything in depth to say. Since my last post everything has stayed relatively status quo.

The mental side of things keep throwing me for a loop but thats nothing new. Treatment is treatment. It seems to change day to day week to week depending what the rest of my body/metal state/sleep patterns are doing.

“never give up”

Since my last post I’ve had an immeasurable amount of chemo, needle pricks, lectures, x-rays, scans, tests, lectures… Since my last post nothing has particularly improved.

So I guess things haven’t actually stayed “status quo”, that infers that nothing has changed. My seizures are something that I’m starting to battle on a semi-weekly basis. Yesterday I was out walking, as I do to try and deal and process and I started to feel that light off kilter spinning feeling. I knew I had to do something quickly so I took my medication and had my ice water with me, lay down and shut my eyes, plugged into my white noise track on my ipod and next thing I knew it was hours later and I was in the emergency room. Friends were not happy with me… especially because they didn’t find out about this til a few hours ago.

In the chair today I am:

• Just going with it, I dont feel like I have any energy to fight any more but a little knot in my stomach feels to squirmy to let me get up an go. Its the same little knot that gets excited to race and hates losing board games and makes laser tag so unfun… Basically my much to competitive streak lives in a little knot in my stomach.
• I am not in the chair actually getting chemo today – I am sitting in a waiting room waiting to see if I can be squeezed in to see the speciallist I don’t actually have an appointment with… I’m hoping there’s something to be said about persistance
• Today I am actually feeling okay.
• Feeling pretty loved

🙂

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“I live in my own fantasies. When reality knocks, I don’t open.” – Something in the Air

So, being happy – is fun. Treatment, sitting in that freaking chair for hour after hour is not. Using what energy I have left to dance around my room at 3am in the morning – Fun. Getting dizzy and sick from lack of oxygen after said dancing – not fun!

This week the fun has outweighed the not fun. And, duh, I like it like that. Week and a bit into the last round of treatment… with only 50% of the dr’s agreeing completely on continuing.

I wish I was someone who could say deep meaningful things.. Instead of just running through each little anxiety in my own head.

Keep calm. It’s just cancer.

Stole the post title… can’t remember from who. But I did. Sorry.

But it made me laugh – cause you know what. It’s so true. I’ve done all this before. I’ve battled this and for almost 10 years I won (minus a few scares and set backs). This isn’t anything to be afraid of anymore. I told a good friend the other night I was “terrified”. Pretty sure the use of the word “terrified” should be limited to when there’s a murder standing over your bed, when your in the forest surrounded by wolves, or watching a good horror movie (possibly also Criminal Minds).

Mental shift.

This is not fair – but its also not fair to anyone else and it’s not worth putting the mental energy into whining about. Complaining, bitching and ranting sure. In my book all that’s fair game. But not whining. Whining is like saying I have no control over what’s happening to me – like I have no choice in the matter. Like this was something condemned onto me and I’m doomed to follow one set path. Which isn’t the case at all. I can complain about the choices I have, or rant about the decisions I have to make, or bitch about the inconvenience of it all, but no more whining – there are a hundred paths I can choose to take. I do not feel sorry for myself. I am strong and I’ve surpassed what everyone has expected of me.

When I started going to the hospital I was “dead girl walking”, everyone knew I didn’t have “much time”, didn’t have “much fight” or many “options/chances/realistic goals”. Two years ago when I was re-diagnosed I was told 18 months. 18 months ago I underwent major surgery and got another chance. And now I’m here and in 4.5 days (practically 4 days) it’s my birthday. Who gives a fuck that making it to April 25th, 2014, is unlikely.

This is my summer (one of the advantages of being a spring baby) – and you know what, I’m done after the summer. Last few rounds of treatment, a few last ditch surgeries, and a lot of fun. If I beat it I win. But this is my finishing sprint. I’m good at that part of racing, digging in and finding that extra gear. If I win great, if not then no one can say I didn’t give it my all. If this last chance combination of drugs don’t work then I’ve used up all my options – and thats not something worth wasting energy whining over. I’ve done everything they’ve asked of me and I want to be happy. I want the people around me to spend time with me being happy. I want to have fun. I want to mean something this summer and I’m only going to be able to do that by getting my head back into a fighting place and getting to a place where I can feel like I’m worth something.

Cause I am worth something.

(And yes I realize everything I’ve just said is fairly “light” and “happy” and “shallow” when the actual situation probably deserves a lot more seriousness and in depth conversation – but I’ve thought it through, talked to everyone I’ve needed to, and I’m done being serious and sad and depressed. Fuck, it’s just cancer.)

No more whining… But sorry to all the people who still need to listen to me bitch…

SIDENOTE: Might be slightly tipsy and happy and feeling good (no – not because it’s 4/20, just a friend visiting from seattle), but as a very good friend told me yesterday – Drunk words are just sober truths and thoughts.

Finding an even keel…

April 5th was my last post – and the second last thing I said 13 days ago was I wanted to find an even keel. Solid ground. Definitely did not do that. Nope. But I made it another week and a half. Didn’t do it gracefully by any means but did it all the same.

Yup. More then accurate.

I think this past week (and a half) the hardest thing to accept was that maybe, just maybe, people care. That possibly I’m not so crazy and there’s actually someone who’s willing to endure this with me. Or at least listen to every situation and promise to never walk away even when things get so overwhelming that I can’t deal with it in a healthy, or productive way. Why would they want to put themselves in this situation, where I can’t promise not to hurt myself let alone them? Where I can’t think straight and just need to hurt? And how can they think all this is strong? How can I be someone they want to hang out with or help when all I can think of myself is that I’m pathetic for not being able to endure this better? And what about when this is all over, if it’s ever all over, will they still be around then? Or are they just being the incredible human beings they are, by helping an acquaintance when she’s low, and needs it? Or maybe its simpler then all that and they really just are my friends, and so many of them don’t know how they’ve helped me get through every single day.

There are so many people I should tell this too. Just so they know. From the person who’ll sit in a park on my lowest nights, to the person who’ll never let me feel sorry for myself, to the person who goes out of his way to make sure I have a reason to smile. I wish I could just ask – “am I someone you genuinely want to know, are we genuinely close, or am I just someone you feel the need to take care of because you’re amazing?”…