Thanksgiving

There was no Thanksgiving celebration at my house. I had to be in Houston the next day for chemotherapy. I didn't really care by that time; I'm too far gone the black hole of chemo.

The weird thing about chemo is that I started having an aversion, not to foods consumed the day of or after my treatment, but the day before. Even when I'm not suffering from sores in my mouth and down my throat, I no longer eat barbecue, no cheese and sometimes Olive Garden commercials are a bit much.

My hotel is right across the street from an Olive Garden and a Mexican restaurant. God only knows how the Mexican food has survived the onslaught of chemo.. I live in Texas; I'd have to move to another state if I'd developed some kind of distaste for it. I gave up Starbucks pretty early in the game after having purchased a piece of cinnamon coffee cake the day before one of my treatments. I may never eat coffee cake again. As a matter of fact, I can't even stand to smell it.

I never ever get accustomed to the coldness of the room we have to sit in before they call me back to my little room with its hospital bed, the television and a chair for my mom. Sometimes I spend an hour or ninety minutes in that frigid tundra of a waiting room before they usher me back to where the real pain begins. It always hurts to attach the i.v. to the port in my chest. After that initial pain, everything is fine except for a cold feeling as the drugs flood into my body. On some level below normal consciousness, my body knows what's happening; industrial strength poison is flowing through my veins and internal organs. That knowledge is too frightening for me to allow into my thoughts.. It's really amazing how many carcinogenic chemicals are introduced into your system in order to diagnose, then treat, cancer.

Getting all the chemicals into my body generally takes 45 minutes to an hour. After treatment is over, I sometimes have difficulty making it out of the hospital. The drugs immediately exhaust me and bone pain sets in right away, too. I get out of breath; this person who used to be in such great condition can barely make it down the hallway to get to the escalator that will take me to the valet parking area.

Usually we have breakfast and many appointments leading up to the chemo treatment. Sometimes a full 12 hours elapse before I have anything else to eat. I can't eat at the hospital because the two cafeterias there (really excellent, as far as hospitals go) are so connected to pain that I can't force myself to even pass by them after my treatment is over. The smell nauseates me. Furthermore, they rarely leave me enough time between appointments on chemo days for me to even make it to the cafeteria if I could bring myself to eat something there.

After it's all over (usually around 9:00 p.m.), my mom sometimes has to go pick food up from time to time when I just can't get up and out the hotel door to get something. The restaurant at the hotel is just as noxious as the hospital cafeteria, for exactly the same reason.

The next morning, I don't generally feel nauseated, but I have to eat really bland foods. Comfort foods, except there's really no comfort to be had. I don't generally feel like eating at any time, whether or not it's a chemo day.

I suppose we could have celebrated the holiday in advance, but it would have been a lot of work with very little payoff for me. Hubby doesn't seem to need the ritual of celebration. So there was no turkey at my house for Thanksgiving; just a trip to Houston. Not that I missed it.

Chemotherapy

Chemotherapy. I spent a week with blisters in my mouth, unable to talk and barely able to eat. My hair is now falling out. I've lost most of my pubic hair. Of course, on the up side, I haven't had to shave anything. Legs and underarms are nude. I noticed this morning that my skin has started to peel.

My next round is on November 22. I've already started to dread it. I'm going to buck up about this, but it's just taking a little longer right now. I plan to have a serious discussion with my medical oncologist about the mouth issue. I can be very determined and vocal when situations warrant. I'd say this warrants it.

People constantly tell me that I'm an inspiration. They're easily inspired. About the best that could be said about me is that I don't mope or take to my bed. I frequently find things funny and invite others to laugh with me. Is this inspirational? Maybe that's just because I choose to search for personal meaning in this current travail.

I think that it's imperative, when one has lived such a difficult life as mine, to try to find some meaning in it. If I believed that all of my suffering has been random and meaningless, I'm not sure I'd wish to continue. Meaning is a tricky thing, though. Sometimes it can take years to assimilate terrible circumstances, wade through the pain and actually find reasons why all that suffering wasn't pointless. There are definitely some things I'm still trying to puzzle out. I'm patient, though. I have time.

I establish some meaning for myself. That is not necessarily the meaning the universe has assigned to it. Nonetheless, there are lessons to be learned if one is capable of waiting patiently for them to become manifest. At the end of all suffering, now and in the past, is a way to become more fully human. For as much as I have suffered, I'm more able to see the suffering of others. I'm more able to find compassion for others.

For a month or so, I've been working toward releasing all of the anger, hatred and resentment that I carry around with me. Some of it is easy to find. I could probably name five or six people I'm enraged with just off the top of my head. There is a lot that I keep hidden from myself. Rage has never been an acceptable emotion for me. My dad pretty much had that market cornered. Unfortunately, I will have to dredge it up in order to let it go. That's quite a task.

Today my lesson is that I am more than the sum of my parts. I am more than my breast, my hair or my skin. It's much easier than learning all of the places in my being where I've stashed some rage just so that I could function effectively in the world. That's the other part of being an inspiration, I guess. Having the heart to keep going, come what may.

Birthday?

Hey, I don't need no stinking birthday celebration. Chemo. Bring on more chemo.