I'm in a funny place.
We have moved into our new reality with conviction. It's like it's our lives' we are living.
The new chemo is a breeze compared to the last. Three down, nine to go. Next up, and every third, is slightly more rigorous. I have the medication regimen down to manage it.
But going to the hospital for these appointments is much harder. I cry at every session whereas before I gritted my teeth through them.
I think the challenge is that I can taste my life and I want it. So I busy myself with all of my familiar routines and rhythms until treatment days come. Treatment is like the grim reaper of the tedious luxurious daily routines.
I sit down for bloodwork and wonder will I make it to Miles' fifth birthday? I wait for results and wonder how will these boys know me if I am not here to raise them? By the time I'm ready for treatment, I'm a mess. Will Jim know what is important to tell them about me? Will he be able to love them, cuddle them, wrestle them, dote on them enough for both of us? Who will they go to for quietness, comfort and truth?
So I'm in a funny place because I feel good, life is familiar except for wigs and Tuesdays.
Speaking of, last Tuesday, I asked my chemo nurse about some of the steroid symptoms. The nurse referred to one of the symptoms as "moon face." Sadly, it is just like it sounds. Flat, round, swollen face. Check, check, check. I feel my decision not to be an informed chemo patient served me well. No good would have come of knowing I'd have a moon face in advance.
The consults start next week. Appointments with surgeons and radiologists. Preparing for the next phases of my twelve months of transformation.
