The day after chemo #3

May 31^st is always an emotionally loaded day for me.  My parents were married on May 31, 1952.  They were two individuals from wildly different backgrounds who stayed together over many rocky years and were not only responsible for my being on this earth, but for giving me the complex personality that has served me well.  It was also 18 years ago today I experienced the end of my first pregnancy.  A day when the hopes and dreams for the surviving twin I was carrying, came crashing to an end with cramps and bleeding following Gustavus’ graduation ceremony.  And now today, two of my friends are in surgery joining the sisterhood of those who know it is more important to save lives than breasts.

Yesterday I had my third (of six) chemotherapy treatment.  My second cycle was similar yet less anxiety ridden than my first.  I knew, at least a little, what do expect.  The day of and a few days after the multiple hours at the Cancer center, I feel tired but basically okay.  I take a dose of steroids the day before, the day of, and the day after the day of treatment.  These steroids suppress any side effects but also make sleep more difficult.  Days three through ten I feel the side effects more acutely.  None of it is terrible, it is just all my normal body sensations are off.  I feel like I have a low dose of Novocain running through my entire body.  It feels a little thick and numb.  Food and even water are unappealing.  Yet I feel better if I have some food in my stomach.  I lose a layer of skin all the way through my gastrointestinal track.  I lose the top layer of skin on my tongue and roof of my mouth.  I feel better lying down, or at least sitting down.  My energy is very low and my mental processing is less acute.  I can look at photos in a magazine, but don’t have the focus to read a long article.

Then about day eleven I wake up in the morning and I feel more like myself.  I don’t feel quite as energetic as usual but I don’t feel any of the odd sensations of the previous week.  And, I feel immensely grateful and think, “I can do this.”  I get as much done as I humanly can, and enjoy the following ten days before heading back into the next cycle.  I keep using the word “manageable.”  While not pleasant at all, it is all manageable.  I use that word so frequently I decided I needed to look it up in a thesaurus and find some synonyms. “Wieldy, handy, controllable, practicable”- geez those are all hopeless.  I am sticking with manageable.

Which brings me back to the parts of my personality I inherited from my parents.  I often joke with my sister that it is completely unfair that I inherited both my father’s bad temper and my mother’s migraine headaches and rolling veins.  It is true my father had an explosive temper.  But I learned from my policeman father how to be a fierce advocate for myself and for others – and yes, this sometimes involves swearing like a sailor and fighting like a bulldog.  However, I also learned from my emergency room nurse mother how to hold the calm center when there is chaos swirling all around me.  Both of these skills have served me well in dealing with breast cancer and all the other unpredictable twists and turns life has thrown my way.

On May 31^st, I always grieve the loss of the first two babies I carried inside me.  Yet I think that experience taught me to treasure even more dearly the one child of mine that did make it into this world. 

Today I am directing my focus to my friends facing surgery and recovery.  They are strong women but sometimes it is okay not exhibit outward strength.  I am holding them in the light.  I am wishing for them days of quietness, and ease as they let their wise bodies heal.  

Earlier today on my facebook update I included an excerpt from the poem Today by Mary Oliver.  Here it is the complete poem.

Today

By Mary Oliver

Today I am flying low and I’m

not saying a word.

I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

But I am taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I’m traveling

a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors

into the temple.