Waiting for Savasana

I just had the 2nd follow up CT scan of my lung.  I meet with my pulmonologist next week.  From what the reports says, it looks like some stuff cleared up and some stuff stayed the same and some stuff got worse.  Great.  I’m sure it doesn’t help that I currently have a raging case of bronchitis anyway.  It hasn’t been fun.  BUT IT’S NOT CANCER!

I did receive my very own inhaler a couple of weeks ago.  Just for me!  I’ve had upper respiratory issues for most of my life; chronic bronchitis from childhood up until just a couple of years ago.  Acupuncture changed my health drastically.  I went from three or four serious upper respiratory illnesses a year to zero.

Zero.

I did get fifth’s disease a couple of years ago but since I started getting regular acupuncture, I’ve been very healthy…except for the whole cancer thing.

I had missed several weeks of acupuncture and I caught a cold that quickly went to my chest and then knocked me on my tush.

And it’s very frustrating.

But I digress, both my kids have had inhalers since infancy.  When I have had problems breathing in the past, I just sneak one of theirs.

When I met with the pulmonologist she asked me a bunch of questions like, did I grow up with adults smoking in the house? Yes…three of them.

Do I have a family history of asthma?  You bet.  But I didn’t know about it until my 30’s when I reunited with my birth family.  The adoption agency didn’t feel it was important to mention that my grandmother, mother and several uncles were asthmatic, even though it was in my file.  Stupid.  Stupid and dangerous because when my infant had what we thought was croup, the doctors didn’t suspect asthma because neither my husband nor I believed there was any family history of it.  It was frustrating then.

My birth mom was all, “Why did the agency make me sit for hours answering medical history questions if they weren’t going to share them with your parents?”

Good question.

But don’t get me started on open records and adoptees rights to their medical histories and original birth certificates (of which I now have both!!!) because we will be here all day.

So the doctor thinks I’ve always had low level asthma but that it really got triggered by recent events.

“Stop using your kids’ inhalers.  I’m giving you one of your own.”

You know, this breathing crap started this summer during chemo.  I would be sitting there reading a book and hear this wheezing sound and think, “What’s that noise?” and then “Oh!  It’s me!”

I told my oncologist and she just blew me off.

So I just used my kids’ inhalers when I struggled because obviously this all must be in my head and I was just being a baby as my ONC implied.

But it turns out, I most likely have asthma that has been brought on by the chemo as well as a nasty bacteria in my lung.

Whose laughing now, oncologist?!!

Well…not me because being able to breathe is a big deal.  We take it for granted until we have problems, and then it’s a real problem, you know?

The inhaler helps sometimes but the other day, I spent 3 hours on the couch with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest.  And the inhaler didn’t help at all and it was kind of scary.  I didn’t really know what to do but I knew I wasn’t being a baby because I’ve seen my kids go through the same thing.

Should I have gone to urgent care?  I don’t know.  This is all new to me.

Eventually, the tightness passed but it was exhausting.

So all I can really do is keep trying to boost my immunity.

I’ve been juicing and making green smoothies.  I even went to Jamba Juice and tried my first and second shots of wheat grass.  It really wasn’t bad.  Kind of sweet and they give you and orange slice to chase it with.  Tastes better than tequila.

I went to the birthday party for a friend and midway through dinner, I was so exhausted, I put my head down on the table.  I was home and in bed by 8:30.  Lame.

I seem to finally be coming out of it but like I said, it’s frustrating.

Yesterday, I got out of bed for about 20 minutes, took a shower and was so exhausted, I crawled back in bed and stayed there the rest of the day.  Not cool.

I’ve been reading.  I’ve read three books by Liane Moriarty.  I am currently on a fourth one.  So far, “What Alice Forgot” is my favorite.  It’s about a woman who bumps her head at the gym and forgets the last ten years of her life including the birth of her children and the breakdown of her marriage.  I really enjoyed it.

I finished Harry Potter Lego (it was highly anticlimactic) and now I am playing Pokemon Y on my very own 2ds.  My kids think I am the coolest mom ever.  My little one and I have Pokemon battles.  He keeps winning.  Hey, at least we’re interacting, right?

And now I am trying to justify a trip to McDonald’s drive thru in my pajamas because I am craving an Egg McMuffin.  Who’s going to see me?  I’ll stay in the car.  God?  I think she’ll understand.  Can I do it if I put on my robe?

Also, I’ve decided it’s ok to have a McMuffin as long as I have some fresh squeezed beet carrot apple spinach juice with it.  My juicer has been getting a workout but golly I hate cleaning that thing!

Maybe I’ll just stick a sign on my back that says, I give up and be done with it.

Last night, my younger son said to me, “Mom, why don’t the doctors just shoot you full of some kind of chemicals to make sure the cancer doesn’t come back?”

We all stared at him for a minute, mouths agape.

“You know…you could go to the doctor and he would have a big needle and shoot you full of stuff to clean out that cancer!”

My older son looked incredulous.  “That’s what she did!”.

Younger son looked confused.

I explained, “You know the chemo I did?  That’s exactly what the doctors did.  We did that.”

Older son said, “What do you think Mom did all summer?!”

My first chemo.

My younger son then said, “But if you did that, then why can’t we be sure that it’s gone forever?”

Awwww, son.

So I explained that I did everything I could to cure my breast cancer.  First surgery, then chemo, then radiation, then Tamoxifen.  I explained that the protocol is promising and that it works for a lot of people and that we really hope it works for me.  My older son piped in and said, “Mom’s cancer is Stage 3.”

And I said, “It’s not just Stage 3 it’s Stage 3C.  The closest you can get to stage 4.”

Younger son asked, “What’s after Stage 4?”

And I gently explained that Stage 4 is it.  But that these days, there are many people who live for years at Stage 4.  My dad lived at Stage 4 for ten years.  And that’s a really long time, especially for kidney cancer.  I also explained that he was Stage 1 or 2 for ten years before that.

“So here’s the thing, guys.  I had all the treatment and now I am trying to keep my body healthy because I believe that a good immune system is part of all this fighting cancer stuff.  In all the years I knew my dad, he was rarely if ever sick.  The rest of us would be down with some illness and he wouldn’t even catch it.  He’d be the one taking care of all of us!”

“And the kind of cancer my dad had, it isn’t very treatable with chemo and radiation.  After my dad’s first surgery, the doctors sent him home and wished him luck…and that cancer stayed away for ten years!  That’s something!”

Doctors have written papers about my dad’s strength.

And then my younger son asked the question he always asks, “Which DAD?”

And I explained it was his Pupa.  The only Dad of mine we knew.  My adoptive dad.  And as always, this led to the questions about my birthdad, R.  He died of brain cancer three years before I found my birth family.

“That’s a lot of cancer, Mom.” my eldest said.  And that’s not even the half of it.  My birthmom had breast cancer a year before me and her mom died from lymphoma in the ’70’s.

“Yes.  We have a lot of cancer in our family. We have to do what we can to fight it.”

So then we talked about all the things we are doing to try to stay healthy.

We all exercise, we go on a lot of walks (the complaining about the walks are endless!).  We eat better.  We eat lots of vegetables.  We don’t eat as much meat.  We limit dairy.  I’ve been making our bread in the bread machine almost every day…honey whole wheat.  I juice vegetables several times a week.  We eat green smoothies.  I offer it to the boys.  They don’t always take it.  The other day I did my first shot of wheat grass.

We’re getting crunchy in here people!

We eat a lot of brussels sprouts and cauliflower and broccoli (roasted in the oven and 350 with some olive oil, salt and pepper, mmmmm).

We eat a lot less sugar than we used to…well, I do anyway.

I drink a lot of green and white tea.  I take a lot of supplements.

We all try to get good sleep.  Both boys have an early bedtime because sleep is important.  They complain but when they get to stay up, they are miserable the next day so what’s the point?

The reality is, that genetically it seems my boys and I have some predispositions to cancer.  I know I do.  The jury is out for them.  But I feel like now it’s my job to model prevention for them and to do it in a way that doesn’t scare them.

We don’t cram it down their throats and believe me, we still have cookies in the house and chips.  But we model better eating and better sleeping and better exercising most every day.

I know my little boy wants a guarantee for me.  He wants me to be 100% cured.  I hope I am.  I hope I can be that for him.  But I also know that with my diagnosis, it would be cruel to tell my boys that I am “Cured” forever.  I am cured for now and we have lots of HOPE.  And hey!  There’s things I can do to stay healthy.  Look at me eat my beets!  Look at me down this nasty wheat grass!  Look at me going for a 5 mile walk!  Look at me do my qigong video! (You’re doing great, Mama!) I am not doomed.  We have hope!  That is important.  And most importantly, I have my boys to live for, to fight for.

What would I do without those boys?

People are still telling me how brave and strong I am. And I have to disagree.

I’m not doing anything brave.  Not at all.

I feel like I am hanging onto the edge of a cliff for dear life.  If I think about it too much, it scares the crap out of me.

I’m scared every day.

I laugh because there are studies that say it will help me live longer.  I drink green tea for the same reason.  I exercise for that reason too.  And I take stupid supplements too.  I actually think I have a problem with supplements.  I keep buying them.

Last week, I almost bought a kit to grow Turkey Tail mushrooms because there’s some study that says they fight cancer.

The Husband noticed my obsession with supplements and asked me where I am going to draw the line as supplements can get expensive.  And the answer is, I don’t know.

I’m scared.

There is nothing brave about any of this.  What choice do I have here?

No choice, just living.

It’s funny, there are several people who treat me like I am already dead.  No kidding.  When I see them, they look right through me, like I’m not there.  Like I’m already a ghost.  It’s a bit disturbing.  At first it hurt my feelings a bit, but what can you do?  Maybe I’ll get a t-shirt that says “I’m not dead…yet.”

It is strange to think that my very existence frightens people but it seems to be the case at times.

But I’m not dead yet.

And I’m not always scared.  Just when I think about it too much.

So my life is about distractions.  And that’s not brave.

I’ve also found I have to curb my swearing.  If I am even slightly agitated, I seem to let the swear words fly.  What can I say?  I’m stressed out.

So don’t think I’m here fighting dragons or slaying vampires.  Really, I’m just kind of hanging out, hoping to stay fairly healthy.  I think that’s what any sane person would do.

Nothing brave or strong about it.

I did something stupid.

See, last May after my surgery found 35 positive lymph nodes for the big C, my doctors ordered bone scans and CT scans to see if the cancer had ventured out to other parts.  Thank goodness, it hadn’t.

But my CT scan picked up a couple of small nodules on my right lung.  The radiologist said it was probably “post infection” and to retest in 6-12 months.

So I made the appointment a little over a week ago.  And I got a little freaked out.  I asked my Facebook friends to send me good thoughts.

That was stupid.

The scan itself was easy.  But about a day later, I got a message on my cell from my surgeon saying that the nodules were “more prominent”.

Wait.  What?  Really?!  What?!

Who leaves a message like that?!  Seriously.

So I called but she was in with a patient.  I called my oncologist but she was out for the week.  I called my nurse navigator and left her a message.

It was stressful.

Prominent?  What the heck does that mean?

So I finally got  call back from the Nurse Navigator who said that the pre-existing nodules were actually unchanged (which is good) but that there was some new stuff.  It was tiny and fuzzy.

She didn’t know much else.  My surgeon was talking to my oncologist.  They were going to refer me to a pulmonologist.  Blah, blah, blah.

I got the scan on a Wednesday, by Friday, I was freaked out.  I was able to read the CT scan report.  But I am not a doctor.  Who knew what this was?!!!

It was scary, nerve-wracking and depressing.

My husband and I spent Friday morning eating pancakes… and crying a little.  I was fully prepared to be told I was now Stage IV.

I forced myself to go to my Living Strong, Living Well class.  But I was pretty grumpy.  I returned home Friday afternoon to find another message from my surgeon telling me that my oncologist had looked at my films and it did not look like metastatic cancer to her.

So that’s good.

But we don’t really know what it is that is going on.

I had a bunch of appointments last week.  The first being with my oncologist who is not sure what is in my lung.  The next was with the pulmonologist who suggested many hypotheses.  It could be post-infection, it could be TB (?!), it could be pneumonia, it could be mold.  She asked if I grew up in a smoker’s household (I did).  She said that looking at my family history and listening to me, I am probably a touch asthmatic.  She listened and decided to get a sputum sample.  Ewww!  She needed three in fact.

I could not hock up a loogie on demand so I had to breathe in saline through a nebulizer.  It sounds worse than it is.

Finally I saw my radiation oncologist for my scheduled check up.  He was pretty straight with me.  He said that my lung stuff is one of three things:

1. An infection of some kind (which is what it looks like).

2. A side effect of radiation (which he says, it doesn’t look like)

3. Metastatic breast cancer (which he says it also doesn’t look like- but he said that with over 30 positive lymph nodes, we can never rule it out)

He told me to be happy that I feel good.  Keep taking tamoxifen and re-scan in two months to see if anything is going on.

He said that my cancer was serious and that it was ok because they were going to follow me closely.

Also, I think he tried to sell me prescription sunscreen…that was a little weird.

And I walked away feeling somewhat worried (although worrying is pointless) and forcing myself to breathe deep, deep breaths.  Being zen is the only thing that helps, really.

My sons knew what was going on.  We can’t keep anything from them anyway.  My little one directly asked me what was going on and I told him that we have to wait and see.

“But today, I feel ok and that is a gift.  Being with you is a gift every single day,” I told him.

I wish I could tell him that everything will be 100% ok forever.  I so truly wish I could tell him that.  But it’s like my radio oncologist said, what happened to me is serious and we can never completely rule out metastasis.

And to tell my children that the cancer will never ever come back would be a horrible, terrible lie.  And I won’t lie to my boys but I also don’t need to scare the crap out of them either.  I try to be honestly optimistic with them.

And we’re just taking it day by day.

But the stupid thing I did was posting that thing on Facebook because after we got not so great and kind of incomplete news, I didn’t want to say anything on Facebook anymore.  I mean, I really didn’t think anyone would have wanted a blow by blow report of our week-long ordeal.

But then people were coming up to me, asking how the scan went and I didn’t know what to say.  Because like my new nodules, it’s kind of fuzzy.

There’s just this big question mark over this.  I’m being “watched closely” but I don’t know what will happen in two months.

I am glad that the fuzzies don’t look like cancer.  That’s good.

This is all kind of part of the new normal.

But I decided at the beginning, that I would try very hard not to live my life in fear of metastasis.  Fear and worry are wasted emotions.  So I meditate.  I go to my happy place and when that’s done I try to fake it ’til I make it.

I’m drawing and painting and playing the flute (no kidding).  I bake.  The other day, I was home alone and bored so I baked a chocolate cake from scratch.  It was delicious.  I work out.  I take my dog for walks. I spend time with my kids and husband. I send cards and gifts to people. I see friends. I plant flowers.  I read. I meditate.  I sleep.  I watch movies.  I play Harry Potter Lego.  I sew.  I keep to myself a little more.  I don’t waste thoughts on things that aren’t worth it.  I try not to worry.  I focus on the positive.

I’m just living.

Like I said, every day is a gift.  That is true for everyone, cancer or no.

I try not to forget that.

She entered with a dour expression.

Her eyes serious and grim.

“I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

So sorry.

The last we had met was when she cared for my pregnancy.

Well, that’s not true, now that I think about it.  The last time we met she yanked out the bc solution that in fact made me crazy for ten months and may…MAY have contributed to my current predicament.  But that’s another story.

Back to the  sorry.  “I’m so sorry.”

She was.  I saw deep concern in her eyes.  And I told her that if we had met months ago, I would share her expression but now all I can do is be glad I am here.

I am so glad I am here.

We wore the same necklace.

We picked up right where we had left off all those years ago.

I said, “I trust you.  I want you on my team.”

And she said yes.

And we talked about the pros and cons of another surgery.

Oophrectomy.  Look it up.

I don’t want it but I might need it.  I might.

And we talked about Tamoxifen and recurrences and side effects.

And she said, “I can’t tell you how many forty-year-old women I’ve seen on tamoxifen recently.”

And that was serious.

And it’s scary because we are the same age.

And I told her to get a mammogram.

I told her.

I told her.

And it was like old friends coming together, talking and laughing and wearing the same necklace.  Hers from Mother’s day and mine from two Christmases ago.

She said she would be on my team no matter what and then she did the exam.  She told me to go get that CT scan that was ordered for my lung nodule that is hopefully just a post infection thing.

She ordered an ultrasound for my ladybits.  Another check for cancer.  Tamoxifen precaution.

Strange that the drug that may save my life may also cause a separate cancer elsewhere.  But that’s what it is. It is what it is what it is.

This will never be over.

“You look great.”

So do you.

I feel better now that she is on my team.

We both left happy and laughing.

Because there is hope.  There is light.  There is friendship?  Maybe not…maybe just professional camaraderie or a strong mutual bond.

And there was hugging.

I am not out of the woods but I have people to hold my hand along the way.

That’s what matters.

Sometimes, that is all that matters.

Well, a trim, really.  My hair is not that long.  It is, in fact frustratingly short.  But it’s shaggy and uneven all the same.

It feels strange to be getting a haircut when I have barely any hair but hopefully my haircut person can work a miracle and make this mess look better/more feminine/less poodley.

When I was a kid, I had very short hair.  People always mistook me for a boy.  It caused a lot of shame and hurt for me.  There were many reasons why my hair was kept short.  It was very thick and described as “bushy”.  I cried when it was brushed (he-hem because it was not brushed properly…just sayin’).  My hair has been a great source of…um… passion and critique for many.

When I was 14, I grew it out and a whole new world opened for me.  And yes, my hair was big and often “bushy” and full of curls but it was me.  And if we are being honest, my hair became a crutch at times.  But still, I am not ashamed to say that I love my hair and when I finally became brave enough to defy others and grow it, my world opened.  And that was a very good thing.  And over the years,  it’s been different lengths and different colors and even different textures and some I have loved and some I have hated but all have been MY CHOICE and my hair was very freeing for me.

The baldness for six months was rough.  Very rough.  Because it was absolutely not my choice.  Wigs made things easier but it wasn’t a fix all.  Wigs are hot and they itch and even the good ones are not the same as a good head of hair.

And now my hair has grown in  a bit but it is a very slow process.  And to be honest, when I look in the mirror, I see the very unhappy 7th grader I used to be and it pisses me off because I am not that girl!

I wear hats…a lot but nothing can replace my hair.

I just have to be patient.  This too shall pass.

I did dye it dark because it grew in white to begin with and then this weird grey color, like pencil lead.  I also had my brows and lashes dyed because they also grew in very fain and light.  My eyelashes are so long though that any mascara I tried smudged my skin instantly.  It looked sloppy.  If anyone knows of a mascara that doesn’t smudge when lashes are long, I would love to hear about it.  Lancome Defincils mascara used to work well but they seem to have changed their formula.

I’m going back to the haircutter who gave me the bobbed hair after my surgery.  The woman I went to for the pixie cut shortly before chemo regaled me with stories of her friend’s mom who died horribly of breast cancer because, she claimed that cancer grew on her implants. ???!!!!

I just sat there, people.  Incredulous at the insensitivity of this “professional”.

I asked my plastic surgeon about the possibility of implants causing more cancer and was assured this was untrue.

“What an idiot!”  was the response I received.

Yeah, thanks for scaring the crap out of me.  No tip for you!

And another thing about hair.  Ever heard of lunago?  My sister claims that the fine white hairs that grew on my face and neck was a response to the chemo and won’t stick around.  Waxing and threading is your best friend in cases like this.  It’s very weird and unwelcome.  I don’t like being fuzzy.

Is this post vain?  You bet it is and I make no apologies.  Beauty is usually fleeting to begin with and it can be bitter when chemo is the reason.  And if I’m vain, then so is the rest of the world because I can tell you that people treat me differently, now that I look different.  And don’t even get me started on how people ( mostly men) treated me when I was puffed up from steroids.  Night and day, I tell you.

Ok off to the haircut store, as we call it in our house.  Wish me luck.  Hopefully, it won’t be too long before I can stick a clip in my hair.  A girl can dream.

Every week I get a little better.  I have some setbacks here and there but things are consistently getting better.  I’m able to do housework without falling on the couch every ten minutes.  I don’t feel exhausted walking around the block.  I’m getting better.

I started the Living Strong, Living Well program at the YMCA down the street.  Living Strong, Living Well is a 12-week program through Stanford for cancer patients post treatment.  The program meets two times a week and includes a free membership to the Y for the duration of the course.

It looks like I am the youngest person in our group.  And it’s crazy how sick some of my teammates are.  Some of them are dealing with metastasis, many are still bald.  Most of us are the definition of the walking wounded.  And we’re all there to exercise?  Yes.

Doesn’t it give you hope?  I mean here we are, a bunch of sick people getting together to do cardio, lift weights and stretch together.  Cancer patients all.  It kind of redefines the concept of “No Excuses” doesn’t it?

A part of me think it’s a completely insane concept.  Here we are, dealing with some serious stuff while we run or walk on a treadmill or wrestle with an elliptical trainer.  A bunch of cancer patients lifting weights.  It’s kind of absurd if you think about it.  But it’s great.  It’s a way to give cancer the finger.

It gives me hope for all of us, you know?

And I have found that it takes my mind off of things.  Exercise is a good distraction.

I hope someday soon I will start to actually feel human again.  I can dream, can’t I?

when you fall asleep on the couch and your husband wakes you up so you can take your Tamoxifen.

1. I am really tired of thinking about/talking about/dealing with cancer.  I have reached my fill for the moment.  Am I in denial?  Perhaps.  But since I currently have no evidence of disease (knock wood), I just don’t feel like thinking about it.

2. With that said, three out of four of us are currently sick with a cold.  Unfortunately, I am in the majority.  We walked to a restaurant yesterday for lunch.  It’s about a mile each way.  I barely made it home.  I immediately got into bed and stayed there the rest of the day.  I watched Mamma Mia on dvd.  That cheered me up a little.  However, it stinks feeling sick and tired and having two kids who are mutually miserable.  Yep.  Poor hubby is taking care of the family AGAIN.

3. Our holiday consisted of a trip to the desert.  My husband and my first vacation together was to the desert.  We stayed in the same place as last time but in a cottage.  It was lovely but it was very different from the trip we took fourteen years ago.  Life is different with kids.  It just is.  Regardless, a good time was had by all.

4. I finally got around to watching “Cloud Atlas” while on holiday and, strangely, I loved it.  I didn’t expect to at all. But I thought it was incredibly entertaining and evocative.  I made husband watch it with me the next night and…he hated it.  He felt the exact opposite of me although we both agreed that Jim Broadbent saved the entire movie.  We’ve been talking about it ever since.  I actually want to buy the movie and he thinks I’m crazy.  I love how we can disagree on something so completely but still have great conversations.  I’m not mad at him for not liking it and he’s not mad at me for liking it.  We just have different opinions and there is room for that.  Regardless, I need to watch that movie again because it’s super long and both times, I fell asleep in parts.

If you don’t know anything about the movie, it’s basically six movies in one.  Each movie represents a different time period and genre but contains the same actors playing different roles, races, genders.  My husband felt much of it was superfluous.  I found value in every story.  You know it’s pretty cool when Hugh Grant is in every story but only recognizable in two out of six (and in one of them, he’s a scary cannibal!!).  The main point of the whole thing is the belief that our lives transcend birth and death.  I just can’t stop thinking about it.

5. I don’t think I’m going to be ready for that Hot Chocolate Run in two weeks.  I thought I could walk it but there is a 15 minute mile time limit and sadly, I am not there yet.  I try to walk daily and I’ve got this 2.7 mile loop that I walk in my neighborhood.  Sometimes it takes me 45 minutes and i come home covered in sweat.  15k?  I don’t think so.  There is a 5k option.  I’m going to see if I can do that.  I’m kind of bummed but I know that when I signed up, I was being optimistic.  I’m honestly just glad to be walking a couple miles a day.

6. I listen to audiobooks while I walk.  I am currently listening to “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt.  I remember her first book, “The Secret History”.  People loved it.  People raved about it.  It didn’t touch me.  I was disappointed.  I am enjoying “The Goldfinch” but it seems like a Murphy’s Law kind of book.  The main character just seems to be bombarded with crappy circumstances.  Sometimes it’s a lot to take in.  I do not know how it ends and I am hoping this kid catches a break but things are not looking good so far.

I’ve had an Audible membership for a couple of years now.  Every month i get one token to spend on a book.  I am very particular about the books I choose.  I usually opt for longer books in order to get my money’s worth.  I pay something like $14 a month so I find books that are at least comparable in price.

I have listened to some incredible novels I probably would not have picked up on my own.  Ender’s Game and Ender’s Shadow being two of them.  Also the entire Outlander series.  Davina Porter is an artist narrator.  I could listen to her read the phonebook.

I have also taken chances on books I haven’t been able to finish.  Pillars of the Earth, blech.  I know most people love it but I hate that book.  I’ve also never been able to get into “The Kite Runner” so I thought the audiobook would be an excellent way to finally read this book…but it’s narrated by the author, who I’m sorry to say is not a great narrator so I still have not read that stupid book.

Hmm…perhaps my love of audiobooks would best be expressed in a longer post all of it’s own.

7. We have absolutely no plans for New Years and that is awesome.  I think we might cook a little, play some games, watch some movies.  I don’t feel like doing much else.

8.  I am going to do a Whole30 beginning on January 1.  I am doing this because I am feeling very inflamed after everything and I think cutting out inflammatory foods cold turkey could really help things.  My armpit hurts, people.  It hurts a lot.  Nobody ever told me it would be my armpit that hurt the most.  Weird thing is, the skin of my armpit is completely numb (which is great when I am getting my pits waxed, and no I don’t shave them because I am afraid of getting a nick, since there is no feeling and getting lymphedema which I just do not want), it’s the inside, the muscles and tendons that are really painful.  Things are supposed to get better when I have my exchange surgery that trades out the uncomfortable tissue expanders I am currently sporting for real implants.  Unfortunately, exchange surgery is pretty far off (six months after radiation) so I just take Advil and deal with the pain.  It gets worse at night time.  I stretch and do my PT exercises but my armpit is still not great.

Anyway, I am hoping the Whole30 does what it did last time, reduces inflammation and instigates much needed weight loss.  No dairy, no grains, no legumes, no white potatoes, no sweets, NO CHEATING. Just lots of fruits and veg and some meat.  I’m ready.

9. I am extremely impatient about my hair growth.  It started growing back while I was doing the Taxol but things seem to have stalled. Being a lifelong curly girl, I was hoping it would come in straight (a girl can dream) but at about one inch, it started to curl.  So it looks like an unkempt pixie cut.  I’m thinking about going in for a trim but that seems counterproductive.  Regardless, my hair is currently annoying me.  Just grow already!  Sheesh!

10. Everything is currently in limbo.  I’m still just slowly recovering and I’m ok with that.  I am thankful for normalcy.  I am basically just in a deep exhale.  Maybe not even an exhale, more like the space between an inhale and an exhale. Believe it or not, it’s a good place to be.