It's one of my days with Miles that I always look forward to. No nanny, no appointments, just me and him. Lately, that's not how my "Miles" days go. Today all I had scheduled was a session with my physical therapist in the morning so I thought I'd have almost all day with my monkey. But late last night, I felt a large, hard lump near my left armpit and completely freaked out. Logically, I knew that it would be rare to develop a new tumor while on chemo, but I am rare in everything that's occurred so far so I was terrified. Boris tried to assure me that it couldn't be a new tumor but I reminded him that he didn't think the first tumor was cancer either. So he stopped talking. I emailed Dr. Funk at 1000pm and let her know about the lump. She responded right away that the lump was probably fluid, but that I should come in first thing in the morning. I can't believe this is happening. I mean, for the love of God. Seriously? I cry myself to sleep.
Thankfully, Dr. Funk was right and the lump is fluid and scar tissue. She tells me that I can in fact develop a new tumor while on chemo and says that I should absolutely come in any time I feel anything. I wonder what I'll do when I have no breasts to feel. Can you feel anything with totally fake boobs? How will I know if there's a new tumor somewhere? I'm so relieved that I cry as I leave her office. But I'm also crying because I can't imagine getting to a place where I'm not deathly afraid of my body and new cancers and dying way too young. I'm afraid I'm going to be afraid forever.
Before going to my physical therapy appointment, I stop at the wig maker's because ironically, I think my wig needs to be curlier. He's glad I stopped in because the pieces he's made from my real hair are ready. He places them on my head and shows me how to wear them with a bandanna. I well up with tears to see me with my own hair back on my head (even bald on top, it's amazing and so sad). I can't stop crying.
In the elevator ride up to the physical therapist's office, an elderly woman looks at my scarf. She turns away but then notices my belly and stares. A lot. It's a very slow elevator. She looks at me and gives a nervous smile as she continues to look at my scarf and belly. I want to turn to her and say, "It really is what you're thinking. I'm really pregnant and I really have cancer." But I don't. I just smile back.
The tears continue at the physical therapist's as she massages the cording in my left arm. No one's quite sure what the cording is or why some people get it and some people don't, but it's excruciating and preventing me from having full range of motion in my arm. She starts to massage the left side of my body near my armpit and tells me that the muscle is so tight it feels like bone. She asks if I'm okay and it's only then that I realize I'm crying because it hurts so badly. She tells me the cording actually feels worse near my elbow. "That's very rare," she says. Of course it is. I'm so over being rare. Can't I just be fucking normal and on the the right side of a statistic for like, 5 minutes? 2 minutes? 1 second? I'm tired of being in pain and yet, this is nothing compared to what I have in store for me. How will I survive the next year? There's only more pain - real pain compared to what I'm going through now. And surgery after surgery after surgery. It's totally overwhelming.
I guess I'm just tired period. Everything seems draining and everything seems to take forever. Although I can now take a 3 minute shower, everything else takes so long. I used to shower and walk out the door 10 minutes later. I didn't do anything to my hair (I stared blankly at the wig maker when he told me about brushing and styling my wig as I didn't own a brush, hairdryer, rollers, curling iron, hairspray....until now). I wear almost no make up (if I can't put it on at a stop light in the car, I don't wear it). Now, I have to make sure my wig is brushed and quaffed, then I have to tape it to my head (sounds easy, but getting it on right without half of the hair stuck to the tape is quite a feat for me). If I eat, I have to rinse my mouth with a hot water solution comprised of salt and baking soda, then again with a prescription mouthwash (to keep gross mucositis away). I have to do arm stretches so that I can hopefully raise my left arm above my head at some point soon. I have to put on my compression sleeve and glove. It's exhausting. Plus, everything is moving in slow motion. It's been the longest 6 weeks of my life. Even my pregnancy seems to be moving slowly.
I guess time flies when you're having fun and goes in slow motion when you're suffering?
1 comment:
I have a friend whom I saw cry upon wearing a wig. She also has a condition that led to hair loss, so she depends a lot on wigs. For her birthday last year, we bought her a couple of human hair wigs, and this made her cry. She said that they really felt natural, so it boosted her self-esteem. Have you ever tried wearing a human hair wig, Sharon?
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