Merry Christmas!

I feel so blessed, so lucky, so merry!

My doctor said that a lot of people who receive a diagnosis of cancer will look at the holidays and get somewhat maudlin (my word, not hers) about them. She said they start thinking maybe they should do things differently than during past holidays. That they start thinking that maybe this will be their last holiday.

No way I'm going there.

I plan to have a lot more holidays.

Will I do things differently from now on? Yes. Definitely. In fact, I'm thinking that every single day I wake up and my feet hit the floor, that's a day worth celebrating, so that means from now on every day is a holiday as far as I'm concerned.

Not to sound all sappy and maudlin, but cancer does make you take a step back and start looking at your life and what's important and what is not. I think I've said that before. It's worth saying again.

Every day we have breath in our body is a gift.

Merry Christmas everyone! And many many more!

Memory loss

A while back I mentioned having chemo brain and said I'd talk more about that later. Now is that time.

Chemo brain is pretty interesting. And scary. Before I started chemo, the nurses and doctors told me I'd experience it. One doctor said it should really be called crisis brain because it's a phenomenon that you can experience even without being shot up with cancer treatment; it's a phenomenon that happens when you have a lot going on and a lot on your mind. It's where you can't find the right word for an everyday object like your keys, or the name of the medicine you're taking. Or when you can't recall that you did something ... like when you're in the grocery store and you forgot your list and can't recall if you already bought and have milk in the fridge. Or when you cannot focus on reading a chapter in a book. Or when someone asks you to do something or tells you a story and two days later you cannot recall that conversation.

All those things and more are what happens when you have chemo brain. It's kind of funny. But it's also really kind of frightening. And worrisome. And frustrating. Really frustrating. And the more frustrated you become, the worse the chemo brain becomes.

It's hard to explain all the side effects of chemo, and if you haven't the experience of chemo brain, you might not be able to imagine it. And, I don't want anyone who's reading this to know it firsthand, but if you ever find yourself looking for a word for an everyday object or wondering if you have milk in the fridge when you're in the market, you've gotten a glimpse of what it's like.

I'm sure that eventually the chemo brain will wear off, though something tells me I'll still forget words and what's in the fridge ... but in the future when that occurs, I'll chalk it up to having a lot on my mind!

The pain of loss, the joy of recovery

It's been a little over six months since I began my journey, dealing with breast cancer. The diagnosis in May, the surgery in June, the chemo starting in August. I lost my summer. I lost my breasts. I lost my hair. I lost the last several months. I lost my ability to focus. I lost being in control of everything in my life. I had to learn how to get through each day. The chemo side effects made it so I had to get up and discover how I was feeling and thus how I would negotiate that day. I had to live literally one day at a time. The chemo side effects are subsiding now, but yet I am waking up each day to evidence that I've had chemo ... I still have no hair, food still tastes bland or weird or bad, and I find that fatigue is still a constant, a natural part of each day.

That said, I find each day I awake to be a blessing and an opportunity to see just how much better I feel than the day before. I'm still discovering things I cannot do, but now I have gratitude for the things I can do and hope for those that I will be able to do soon. Recovery is a good thing!

A season of hope

Up until just the other day, I really haven't been looking ahead. I've been focused on today, the here and now, the immediate. To some degree, this has been a learning experience, and definitely a new way of thinking for me. Don't get me wrong ... I've always been a person who lives for today, that's why I don't have a million bucks in the bank and why I have more memories than bankroll. But this big C thing ... well it makes you stop in your tracks and take stock in what matters. And the chemo, that makes you ... forces you ... to live right now. I wake up feeling great and two hours later I feel like a steamroller has had it's way with me. So it goes.

But.

This next chemo treatment tomorrow is my last one. And for the first time since May, I feel like I can look ahead. Look forward to something. Like, I'm looking forward to getting hair ... I can't say "getting my hair" back, because I'm told that whatever hair that grows back will be different than what I used to have. That will be interesting for me and for my hairdresser!

I'm looking forward to eating ... really eating ... again. Especially a nice juicy steak and a big fat cheeseburger (not at the same time! I need to pace myself people!). I'm looking forward to spaghetti with marinara sauce. To wine. To a lovely green salad. To tomatoes in the summer.

While I've been undergoing these treatments, I've tried to maintain my sense of humor, so I have been able to laugh during this time and I thank God for that gift. I do look forward to more laughter than tears over the next several months and I look forward to sharing laughter and conversation over those tasty meals soon with all my friends!

Mostly, I look forward to getting my life back.