I've been thinking a lot lately. Even more than usual. My thoughts aren't as focused on my cancer but more about my life in general and what I plan to do now with myself. I am scared. Life is passing every moment, whether I'm doing something great or something frivolous. Am I doing the right things? Loving the right people? Am I pressing myself hard in the right ways and giving myself the proper slack in others? Just questions swirling around.
I feel very alone. And its an odd feeling knowing that millions of people around the world are dealing with the same feelings, the same fears, the same ghostly illness. But even knowing that there are lots of people suffering like me, doesn't make me feel less alone.
Everybody's cancer is different. My mother and I say this to one another about once a week or so. Usually in the middle of discussing some person we know who is or had dealt with cancer. Its maddening and its saddening. One of my mother's friends is losing her mother to cancer. She's up in age and they have told her that her cancer isn't treatable. She's too fragile to handle chemotherapy or surgery. So, while I fret and complain about the side effects of my treatment, she is coming to grips with the end of her life. Now, I do not know this lady and I have no idea how she feels about any of this. She may be cool and relaxed for all I know. But the story has been on my mind all evening.
That could have been me.
The wife of a friend of my boyfriend passed away from breast cancer recently. Again, that could have been me. And so on, and so forth... that's how my thoughts have been. When I see or hear a story about someone's deep suffering from cancer I can't help but think -- that could have been me.
So... now I sit and ponder -- what now Nicole? I'm working on a list of things to accomplish and I'm going to put it on a timeline. Breaking down the goals to steps that I can take in a normal fashion, in a reasonable amount of time.
It could have been me will have to define another reality. I need to feel hopeful again.
I'm back to reading that silly "crazy sexy cancer" book. (laugh) It has proven to have a few good ideas in it but not an abundance. At least not for me. I've gotten about halfway through it -- and of course, being the writer that I am I've already wondered if I could write a better book. Maybe better isn't the right word but different somehow. She's still a bit too perky for my personal taste and a bit too "gung ho" about changing the world. However, I think that she may have been farther removed from her feelings than I am. I don't know. I'm not up for starting a movement or even joining one just yet. All of this is still very raw for me.
For example, I received a wonderful and sweet note from a good friend asking me to consider creating a team to walk in the Komen Race for the Cure in DC this June. I thought about it, asked my group if they were interested and then signed up for a team. I was a bit energetic and excited about the idea earlier in the day. But as the day went on, and I thought more about it, I wondered whether or not I was emotionally ready to be involved with the "machine" of fighting cancer.
This is still a very personal experience. I know I share a lot of my deep feelings here with everyone but honestly, it still feels very private too. Hard to explain the dichotomy but as public as I am being about my feelings, its also very tender in my heart. I think that raising funds for breast cancer research is a worthwhile endeavor. And I know that I will have to dig deep some days in order to get through this... but I think, in the end, it will be worth it.
I'm going to push through this feeling. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that its overwhelming and somewhat frightening at the same time. It really is. (sigh) But so what? I guess I'll get past this too.
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My radiation doctor gave me some sort of prescription cream to use on my radiated breast area but I can't figure out why. (laugh) The symptoms that it says it treats, I don't see. But I'm going to use it anyway. Along with these lotions I've purchased at her office's suggestion as well. The therapist told me that my breast looked "dry" the other day. I would have been offended but I wasn't quite sure what she meant by it. To me, dry means ashy. And I wasn't ashy. I guess I'm not using my lotions frequently enough. I don't know... but if I don't use all of the lotions/creams on my boobie, they are quite moisturizing so I'm sure I'll put it to good use.
I find myself soaking in epsom salts a couple of times a week. My body aches a lot. I walk rather slowly (which is another reason why I'm laughing at my ambition to walk a 5k in June and a 10-miler in October...) but I'm not going to worry about it too much. I'm just going to work my way up to it. Three miles isn't that far (at least it wasn't to me a year ago). Considering that I get winded walking up and down the stairs, I've got my work cut out for me.
I still run into that wall of expectation. That's where I expect to be able to do something and then my body reminds me that I'm not quite there yet. Its also where I expect people to be able to look at me and see "cancer girl"... and they don't. I suspect that I will run into both of these expectations for a long time. Sometimes cancer feels like the scarlet letter but I suppose that its really not. I should be happy that I no longer look sickly but in some ways I'm not. At least when I looked sickly, I didn't feel the need to explain myself. Now, I feel like I have to live up to the expectation that I'm a normal, healthy girl -- even though I don't feel like it. And I don't know what's worse -- that I don't feel like living up to other people's expectations or that I even think I have to.
