Sep 27 2011
I know I’m healing somewhere when I get this little itch about feeling like I haven’t blogged in a few days and really, ya know, should put up a post about something. This is a good itch that doesn’t even feel bad, like the good-but bad-feeling itches that hurt but mean wounds are healing do. It’s been a mostly quiet week too, which is another odd sensation. Mostly a week of getting house dynamics tweaked and adjusted some as we all learn to live together as a working team (still more work to go of course), healing and being irritated about the whistling hole under my arm that’s at least apparently getting smaller as it heals and stays not-infected. Gross, but still positive overall. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow (it never ends), where I desparately hjope I can finally get the other two drains out, since they;’re both now producing (just barely) under the 30mL minimum that they need to be in order to get taken out.
My emotions have been up and down over the slow healing of this surgery. It may not even be all that slow of healing as it feels, just slower than I’m used to. My body really is stronger and my immune system more awesome than I sometimes remember to give it credit for, and double mastectomies coming on top of twelve weeks of one of the most aggressive forms of chemo my oncologist could devise plus 34 rounds of radiation to fix a stage 4 cancer that had metastasized to the point of partially paralyzing me (resulting in a total of 3 months spent in the hospital this year alone) was asking a bit much of it. Ya think?
Emotions aren’t logical, however, and I can read all of that and even believe it, and still tear up over not being able to hold my daughter (too heavy for my arms right now plus she kicks a lot), or be the one getting up at night when she needs something, or all the work I was doing to retrain being able to sleep on my side being completely erased and back at the starting line (behind the line really, since even after drains and such come out it’ll be a while before I can try that again), or all the PT I was doing being similarly reset, especially anything to do with the upper body (which totally discourages the motivation to do the other parts of it, even though I do SOMEthing most days, even if it’s just the in-bed ones. And that doesn’t begin to cover all the various things I could get upset about if I think too long or too hard about all that’s happened to me in the past two years or so.
So. On lighter notes, I’m hoping to reconnect with the visual artist I was working with last year long enough to get that project wrapped up and ready for the world, and I even have the energy to put toward it now and a deal ready to make with the artist so no excuses there. I’ve started submitting pre-cancer-written stories around again (three submissions this week!) and I’ve made my writer group meetings for the past several, and participated too. (Heck, at least one I felt I monopolized talking about how to re-motivate and find ways to generate new creative content from a well only slowly filling again but the others seemed to get some benefit from the discussion as well so hopefully that was all right.) I’m blogging regularly, and not just collections of links (though I’ve certainly found some interesting ones), and I even applied for a slush reader position.
I’ve taken a more active nightly role in helping The Teen with his homework and staying on top of his school stuff (though giving due credit, the caretaker-helper is assisting with that as well by talking to teachers about what homework there is when she picks him up from school) and get some baby interaction every day, usually in the form of a feeding or nap. Though the house maintenance may not be where I would prefer it, the pathways are kept clear, everyone gets fed, and while the budget is in need of more balancing due to all the medical expenses (any philanthropists out there not already helping out, we’d love to hear from you!) we’re really not doing badly all things considered. I still fall asleep over the computer most nights; I still have embarrassing medical moments; I still feel like I’m missing out on so much I wanted to do with my wonderful, brilliant baby and my awesome teenager. These are all true things, and it’s complicated because so is life.
And I’ll take it, because life is worth fighting this hard for.