Wednesday, January 19, 2011
push to start.
Today I woke up on the wrong side of something. I wasn't just sad when I woke up, I already felt hurt. And I had a great night on Monday night...........despite the endoscopy I attended a wonderful MLK Celebration at Peace Community Center and then Scott and I went to the Tacoma Comedy Club and laughed our asses off. But this morning..............whole other person wearing my pjs.
I am hoping that it is PMS, some type of PMS (even though I don't have the cycle that usually coincides with these emotions)...but maybe I am on the right track? I was told by the lady styling my wig today that coming off chemo and the steroids is like coming off heroin--that many times the detox after the chemo is the worst (I am not saying this is the worst, my hospitalizations were the worst but,)............and I was like WHY DIDN'T ANYONE ELSE TELL ME THIS SHIT. Here I have been worrying and thinking my body was breaking, and here is this gentle (yet slightly eccentric) woman saying her daughter was going through the same thing and that no one told them that either, it breaks my heart. I have been fighting with myself because I felt like my body wasn't doing something right.....it was rebelling against me....first cancer, now recovery...................but the more research I do and people I talk to, the more normal it becomes.
One thing for sure, I will address it in my book.
My brain is running a hundred miles an hour right now, at 3:30 in the morning. I took my ativan with no result, I took my pain medication for the shooting pain in my right leg and my numb and achy left foot--but I think my panic attack has override everything so I am a big ball of crazy--of tears and worry and confusion. I am sick to my stomach, the feeling I had when I was first diagnosed and would lay in bed, even holding Scott's hand while he sleeps, my eyes wide open staring up at the ceiling tears streaming down my face, a lump in my throat and weight pushing me into the bed--I feel so alone. I know this is one of the 'dips' you have after a crisis and I am working your way up....
Healing from my diagnosis, surgery and chemo has been slow, it has been scary, and it has shook my foundation. My brain is starting to pick up and I am making lists and lists of things I need to do, people to call, steps to take--but my body is too slow and it can't play catch up. This is the definition of frustration.
Today I was looking for clothes to wear and had a melt down because I only have 1 pair of pants that are comfy, but they are getting too big and the next size down I have is still too tight. My boobs are a bit square so certain shirts don't look well and I can't wear a bra because the strap sits right on my port which makes it very uncomfortable. Scott and I were going to head out to do some errands--I told him I wasn't going anywhere, went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat on the toilet (seat down of course) and broke into a fit of tears...it washed all my make-up off...that just made me cry more. I was a hot mess that didn't have clothes to wear and I just felt overwhelmed by the physical person I am now and how frustrating it is to feel trapped in a body you don't recognize and due to physical pain and other limitations at this time I can't do as much as I would like to change it.
I feel powerless.
I felt powerless when I was diagnosed.
I refuse to feel powerless in my healing process.