Highs & Lows

The last couple weeks have wrought the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. My lady Pam has an earful coming her way this Thursday when I sit down on her lumpy futon and purge.

In the course of one week:
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We moved into our new home in 100 degree heat and humidity, marveling at our quiet and quaint neighborhood and having our own kitchen.

I casually mention to my doctor, "My face is numb, is that bad?" To which he essentially said, "Yes, that is very bad, let’s reevaluate this last chemo treatment and push that puppy off one more week." I had to look at my friends and family who'd come to celebrate the end and say, "Sorry guys, thanks for coming, but not today."

I walked around barefoot at the house, my heart flooding with pride and happiness at owning our own little corner of this world. Then I made the mistake of peeking at my calendar, at the MRI appointment, where on Thursday I’ll be lying face down in a thwacking tube with my boobs plopped into two circular holes to see about this little thing called cancer in my chest, that is hopefully no where else. Mood: killed.

More: I'm buying a welcome mat at Target while leaving a message at my oncologist. I'm explaining to my coworkers that - just kidding - no, I’m not done with my Phase 1 treatment. I"m struggling to focus on their faces as they ask me questions because I’m having an anxiety attack. The scope, the range of all this I am struggling to put into words.

I can say that this joy I’m experiencing has been the most welcome of distractions, and without it I’d be plaguing over every slight headache and poking my face with my fingers and I’d be up, awake, worrying, Googling.

I'm happy and I’m also scared. But the happiness mostly wins out, and for that I am thankful.

​Praying for some finality of this phase; praying for good news, and praying for definitive answers on next steps to rid me, and my sweater puppies, of this awful disease.