When I first got back from the hospital after the brain
surgery, I kept asking Jim can you tell a difference in me. What a question for Jim to field. From me and I’m sure from everyone else, too. I’m still trying to figure out the
answer. I think I’m good. I think I’m me. But how would I know?
I often think of that period of confusion. All the things I was up to. Terrible headaches. Piercing pain. (Diagnosed as TJM. Do I really seem like I complain that
quickly?). Lots of nausea and throwing
up from the pain. One of the days, I
left work early to take Ian to the doctor.
I remember having trouble navigating to the doctor’s office. I had trouble getting him into and out of the
car. I couldn’t really focus well. I wondered if it was left-over anesthesia. Now, when I have extra time and find myself
just sitting, I wonder, am I having trouble focusing?
The past two years exhaust me. And the year before that was a move, a
renovation and a new baby. So, maybe the
past three years exhaust me.
How am I? I am
grateful for what I have. I wonder a lot
about the future, in a not-specifically about cancer, but still about cancer
sortof way. I feel better, good. I like my inch of hair. I just also have a little sadness, too.
My gratitude makes it easier when Ian shouts up
in the middle of the night: “wet, mommy, wet daddy.” I am happy to collect him, change him and curl
into his toddler bed with him.
See, we are good; we are fine. November knocks, but December 2015 sings with promise.
