The Same as a Broken Leg?

I don't think so.

I was just telling someone that my scans were clear.
He was telling me how much of a blessing that is.

He obviously didn't know how I have been feeling.

I tried to explain to him what the situation was.
I tried to explain that my mind may be affected for
a long time to come.  I tried to explain that just
because chemo was over didn't mean that suddenly
everything was OK.

He tried to tell me that I often sound fine.  That I
had to be fine, and now I could just move forward.

When I tried to tell him that he didn't understand,
that even though I could function in some ways,
there were things that are extraordinarily difficult.

He turned around and said that when someone
breaks a leg they don't just "sit there."  They get
up and and do something.

When someone breaks a leg?

It is NOT the freaking same thing.

Someone else I was talking to was looking online
to see what he could find out about what I am
dealing with.  He found something I didn't even
know about:  PCCI Post Chemotherapy Cognitive
Impairment.  According to good ole Wikipedia,
it can last up to 10 years!

While there are things I might be able to do to
help myself over the long run, over the short run
it is incredibly frustrating to work so hard to do
some things that before were practically effortless
for me.

I have always appreciated my brain.  I have often
been quick-witted and able to remember things.
Now it is very difficult, and it is even difficult
to read things, and retain what I read.

I had heard about "chemo brain," but it was never
explained to me like this.  Would I have wanted
to know?  Would it have changed the way I did
things?  I don't know.  But what I do know is that
this recovery may very well be more difficult than
the recovery from cancer.

This - in some ways - is much harder to cope with
and harder to accept.  I read that "many" people
think that when the chemo is over they will just
be able to get on with their lives.  So apparently
I am not the only one who thought that.

How the fuck am I going to deal with this?  It is
so hard to do anything.  On top of that, I heard
of one woman who had it so bad she had unpaid
bills piling up and didn't care.  I am not quite there,
but I can relate to the lack of caring.  You have to
care to do things - especially when it takes extra
care to do them, or they don't get done.

People talk about the fight with cancer.  This
feels like a much bigger battle to me.

I want myself back.

That sounds so tame compared to how I really
feel.  I am sobbing as I type.  I feel like I am in
this really strange state.  It is one that I think only
another who has had this could relate to.

If you know someone who is being treated with
chemo, please understand this is all too real.  It
is not stress.  It is not made up.  It is fucking real.
And it will change the person in ways that s/he
has absolutely no control over.

I have told people around me that I don't always
remember things.  I probably repeat myself more
than I want to.  I sometimes get lost mid-sentence.
I forget the simplest of words.  I can't always
communicate as effectively as I would like, as
I sometimes lose my way to where I was going.

At the same time, it would seem to those on the
outside looking in that it is no big deal.  That I am
just fine.  As I have explained before, I am
functioning mainly from my right brain.  I have
always been right brain dominant.

But the right brain is more intuitive.  It is easy
for me to write these blog entries when I DON'T
think.  But the problem comes when I do.

For me to plan my life, for me to plan work and
negotiate the things I need to for work, it is an
incredible challenge.   I wonder if those treating me
ever thought about how much it would challenge
me, given my circumstances.  I don't know that
it would have changed a thing, but I am in a very
different situation than most.

I don't have family supporting me.  No husband.
No kids.  I didn't have a job when this happened.
No benefits.  No disability.  I have the "wrong"
kind of cancer to get much of the help that is
offered.

Sure you can treat me.
But, hell...now freaking what?

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A Chapter Ends

Just in time for a holiday called "Thanks" giving,

my chemo rounds have officially ended.

I am feeling sad.

I am writing this as I get the last 30 minutes of

the last dose.  The woman next to me was crying.

It was hard to tell why.

It reminded me of my first chemo back in July.

It reminded me of how emotional it was.  I, too,

was in tears.  I was overwhelmed.  I was scared.

So much fear.  So much uncertainty.  

A long road was ahead of me.  

I had more questions than answers.

Questions that I didn't know would 

need to be addressed weren't even

"born" yet.

I had hoped to be one of "those" who would fly

through chemo miraculously without any ill effect.

If you have been following along, you know

that that wasn't/hasn't been the case.  Even

as I walk away today, I have chemo fog/brain

affecting me.

I thought I had, in some way, dealt with it.  

Today, though, as I spoke with someone who 

is supposed to help me with its effects, I began

to cry.

I am frustrated by the mental me that I seem

to have misplaced.  I won't say lost, even 

though a part of me wants to.  I won't say 

lost because signals point to the possibility

of a return.  Of course the wording is cautious

and guarded.  But there is promise.

It is just going to take time, and effort.

Apparently, I can cope with this, but it is

not something that can be dealt with in a

passive way.  It is going to take a special

effort on my part.  

*oh goody*

I seems like an opportunity, but just like

my hair situation, I miss the "original"

version and can only hope that it will

either be restored to its former self,

or come back even better.

Apparently all of the things that I 

described are common for those who

go through chemo, and are mentally

affected.  Mentally challenged might

be more appropriate.

But apparently there are ways to

compensate.  It just makes me feel

inferior and deficient in some way.

I *should* be able to pull things out

of my head, just like I have done in 

the past.  That fact that I don't have

that ability sucks more than you

might know, or realize.

From what the therapist says, I

should be able to reconnect to 

what is there.  The hypnotist in

me wonders about the possibilities.

It is amazing what people can

remember under hypnosis - things 

they had long since " forgotten."

I may have to experiment.

Along with my whole long list of

other things...including trying to

figure out how to get back in

business.

So...

Regardless of what does or does

not happen next, I must consider

this chapter concluded.   cancer

(I know it is the beginning of a

sentence...I just will not capitalize

it.  I will not give it "that" level of

importance.) came for a visit, 

and it is no longer welcome to 

stay.  

I kept trying to remember tonight

that chemo was my friend.  I am

really not sure about how that came

out in the grand scheme of things,

however I did not see it in the same

way most do.  I am guessing my

hypnosis had a lot to do with that.

While chemo left me affected, I 

never once went to "blame" chemo.

If I felt badly, I felt badly.  It sucked.

And eventually the feeling left.

This time has been a lot of ups and

downs.  I am not sure I ever have had

a greater personal rollercoaster.  I

hope never to have another ride that

even faintly resembles what I have

been through.

I just have to plan on the pet scan

reporting good news.  This next time,

and each and every time after that.

I can be one that is one and done.

There are some who are that, why

couldn't I be one of those some?

I keep feeling like I should be more

happy.  Or more relieved. Or more...

something of something that I am not.

But all I am is tired.

Meeting a number of people lately

that have had long term treatments

and returns certainly did not help.

At the same time, I have met all 

kinds of people.  People who were

given no hope by doctors in other

places, but nothing but hope and

recovery at the place I go.

I have learned an important lesson

in all of this, and that is that

people with a diagnosis of cancer

are...are you ready for this?...

people.

They have hopes and emotions and

feelings and concerns just like

anyone else.   They are not contagious,

and can be some of the nicest people

you will ever meet, if you are willing

to interact with, and talk to, them.

There is nothing special one needs to

say or do.  As a matter of fact, the

most special thing that a non-cancer 

person could do for someone diagnosed

is to treat him/her normally.   At least

that is the case in my experience, and 

in the experience of some of those that 

I  have had the good fortune to meet.

My awkwardness in that regard has

totally disappeared.  What a gift to be

able to see these beautiful people for

who they are without me limiting or

defining them by a filter called "cancer."

What a wonderful thing 

to be grateful for as a 

New Chapter Begins.

IF everything has/is a vibration...

I am now much calmer than I was before.

I am also feeling number.

Maybe it is just that I am tired.

But the thing is, that I have had a thought
that has wandered around my brain for a
bit today and I wanted to get it out, before
it gets lost.

This thought has to do with the chemo.

Chemo is about death.  It goes around
one's body, and kills off cells, and it
doesn't discriminate.  It could be a cancer
cell, or it could be an innocent cell that
wants nothing more than to nourish me
and do its thing.

If there is any "truth" to a vibrational
experience of the world by the vibrations
we are around, then it is incredible to
consider that one who walks around with
this vibration of death would be in any
state other than that one.

Every time I go for treatment, they ask
me if I am depressed.  That tells me that
there is a good chance that there are others
like me going through this emotional
cr*p.  I wanted to say "stuff," but that
doesn't seem to do it for me.

Sometimes you really just gotta use the
words that fit, not the ones that sound
more appropriate/proper.

This is big time cr*p.

And it is amazing to me how many people
tell me how it is for them and others they
know, comparing it to me an my situation,
and do it in a way that is somehow
supposed to make me feel better.

The thing is, I really feel incapable of
dealing with things a lot of the time.  I
really feel like the chemo has messed
with my mind and my ability to function.

I really feel like this is NOT like everyone
else's pains and considerations and...

Not to take away from anyone in regard
to anything...but it is soooo not the same,
and trying to tell me that it is somehow
the same soooo does not help.

I know people want to help.  If not to
help me, at least to help themselves.  I
understand.  I really, truly do.

Before this, I was there, too, if I wasn't
avoiding it all together.

There has to be a better way to respond
and deal with this.  There has to be a better
way for us to interact with others.

I don't want to scare people off from
interacting with me.  At the same time,
I am sure I do - and if the topic of cancer
doesn't do it, the topics of my last few
blogs certainly can't be helping.

As a society we don't seem to want to
deal with the things that aren't somehow
"OK."  It is easier to stay away from those
things and people than it is to wade into
the waters and do what we can for them.

At the same time, it is those times that
people who need help, need it the most.
It seems ironic to me that it seems the
easiest to turn our back on someone
who needs help when they most need it.

I heard someone on a video earlier saying
something to the effect if you are around
someone who is down, you are likely to
feel down.  If you are around someone
who is up, you are likely to feel up.

I found myself wondering about this.
At first, it sorta sounds like it makes sense.

But when I think about it, it doesn't really.

If I am down and you are up, how do
either one of us know which direction
either one, or both of us, will go?

Maybe you would bring me up.  Maybe
neither one of us would change.  Of course,
I could bring you down, potentially, if we
explored the possibilities fully.

It makes me wonder if the thing that "nudges"
us in a direction is where we are in relation
to something. If what I am down about is
something you can relate to, maybe it will
bring you down as you identify with it.

Maybe you going down has nothing to do
with me, and everything to do with the things
that you have to deal with?

Maybe if we talk, and you bring me up, it
is because I can find something in how you
are and what you say that I can relate to, and
when I focus on it, things change.  And, it
has nothing really to do with you.

Maybe all we are is just conduits for each
other, and we just choose which things we
want to make connections with by the actions
we take.

And...given what I know of our unconscious
mind and its desire for comfort, it is not the
least bit surprising we would want to stay away
from those things least familiar and known,
and therefore the most uncomfortable.

So...

I guess the best we can hope for is that when
we see each other and our situations we see
something more than the things that trigger us.

Maybe that is when we truly connect, and 
maybe that is what brings us out at our best?

**

I am so tired.  Maybe I will go back to sleep.
What are the odds the world will look better
when I wake up?