oh shit, my glass is empty

Today was day 3 of IV antibiotics in the sad chemo room--still no change in my boob.  It has been refreshing to not have chemo this week, last night instead of being in my drunken chemo state I had game night with Scott and my sisters.  I am not what you call a good loser, or a good winner for that matter.  I am a bit of a control freak and games are no exception.  Scott calls me crazy (again, not sure when he will understand that it has lost its effectiveness) and he wishes I would relax and just be able to play games.  I am a board flipper and I get annoyed when games move slowly. I like fast paced everything............I know, I need to slow down.

My right arm has began to ache so bad I don't even want to walk, it is kind of hit and miss and no amount of lymphedemic massage seems to help.  Even when I reach for the percocet it doesn't do the trick, just leaves me with a nasty headache and mild comfort for awhile.  My panicky control freak side (as Scott would like to call it, my 'crazy' side) is convinced my arm is going to get very large and I will no longer be able to write with my right hand..........my logical side thinks that if I do have an infection in my right boob my lymph nodes on that side are working their asses of and the pain is a result because with some of them missing, they just don't work so well as a team anymore.

I have been missing home a lot.  The out pouring of support and contact with long lost friends has made me both nostalgic and wanting to visit really bad.  I can't visit because I am on daily IV antibiotics, or it's flu season, or I am nauseous, or I am in the hospital.........so until chemo is done the closest I can get is listening to the country station on the radio--it's driving Scott crazy in the car.  I don't just miss Okanogan and the people, I miss simple times.  I miss shitty beer and camping in cars in the middle of a wheat field.  I am all nostalgic about lots of stuff lately, and teary too--probably due to lack of sleep, chemo brain, and lots of time on my hands. 

I loved where my life was before cancer......I don't like the cancer detour and the worry about getting back on track once the detour is over.....it's fucking scary.  Many things have happened since my diagnosis that never would have happened otherwise, for those things I am thankful.  I have reconnected with great friends, started the blog where I have been able to give an open-book view of cancer and am learning more about myself than I care to admit.  I have had things taken away that I will never get back, a few more obvious than others..........breasts, nipples, trust in my body, and an understanding of how I thought my life was going to go.

I feel as if my future is dicey and my plans are no longer concrete.  I find myself second guessing things I was sure of just six months ago--having children, a PhD program, breastfeeding, living past 35, being healthy.  I keep returning to the thought that my body has turned on me, that if I can't trust my body where can I put my trust?  It shakes my foundation and I don't like to be rocked.  I am not a religious person, I feel that if I was it would be easy to put everything into faith (I have faith in relationships and that things happen for a reason) and not take ownership of what I am feeling and doing about all this cancer business.  That is what it is, a business--we are partners now, cancer and I--definitely a give and take relationship.  Personally, I feel cancer takes too fucking much, but we are working on it.  I will have this "dark passenger" (thank you Dexter) for the rest of my life. I will have to have tests and scans for as long as I live--there is always a chance that my body will turn on me again--no matter how healthy I am, how far I run, how much I work out, how well I eat.......

But what keeps me up at night is the fact that I won't know when or if it will happen.  When I think about future plans I feel selfish. I feel selfish for asking for support, for eating skittles ("sugar causes cancer"), for wanting to have children--not knowing how long I will be around to raise them. I feel selfish for having Scott at my side through everything, not knowing if I will be around to support him in the future.  I worry my life will be cut short by this horrible disease and I will be jaded in the end.  I worry that my stage 3 will become stage 4 and after numerous treatments I will give up. 

"Live life like everyday is your last" has a new meaning, but lets be honest...it is very unrealistic.  If anything I will work on balance in my life and enjoying things more.  I don't take anything sitting down and cancer is no exception, life just has a different taste now and it is going to take some getting used to.