Inside Out
It's taken me all freaking day to write this. I'm in single parenthood land with Adam on the couch recovering from the big "snip" (stay tuned for all the feelings on this) and so far I've cleaned up poop all over the main floor (dog), wiped the floors a million times (Seb) and cleaned up barf (Henry on account of the Jelly Belly game) and done three loads of laundry, groceries and made supper. Tired would be an understatement but here's what came out:
Radiation was not my favourite. Not as awful as chemotherapy or the long list of other awful things people keep telling me to remember I don't have to go through; brain surgery, amputation, organ transplants. I get it. 3 nights in isolation feeling nauseated and lonely and scared with a terrible weird radiating feeling in your mouth isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person but it did suck and I'm allowed to say it. See? I said it.
I was a super radiation processor and was able to come out on the third day and go straight home (with strict instructions for 2 more days about contact - no kissing, using a separate washroom, sleeping by myself and not being closer than a meter to anyone). I can't properly tell you in words what the feeling of going outside that room and breathing fresh air and being able to walk around in the world felt like after three nights and two days with no contact with people. It felt pretty great but also felt renewing and fresh and like I had won a prize.
I had my full body bone scan on Easter Monday and it was fine. Nothing life changing. Nice to lay still with nowhere to go or be for an hour actually. I spent the time thinking "my life is so weird right now" and "I hope this scan shows nothing out of the ordinary" and "I wonder what's for dinner?".
The scan's purpose is simply to show where the radioactive iodine was absorbed and so they are looking for signs of absorption where my thyroid was and if it shows up anywhere else outside of that it would be considered the "out of the ordinary" that I'm hoping to hear nothing about. This week passed and I didn't have a phone call so I'm hoping for more radio silence until the end of May when I will review the scan with my endocrinologist. No new is good news in this case.
The number one struggle right now is being too tired to be inside the life we've built which means there is nothing left for outside either. Everything seems like an immense amount of energy expense and there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day for all the good parenting, healthy eating, exercising, meditating and living in the moment you're supposed to be doing when you have cancer. Every room in the house needs a scrub and purge and I simply can't and because Adam is so busy keeping up with all the other things he can't either.
We are being cautious about scheduling anything outside what's necessary which makes us the worst to be friends with right now. Most of our people have been very understanding but there have been a few along the way who simply don't get it and that's fine too. We are working from the inside out and hopefully by the time the weather is ready and the scan results are reviewed we'll be ready for more of the outside too.
The other day to day issue with living through a touch of cancer is you wear your fear on the outside. We are so good at hiding our fears on a regular basis and carrying on with life but once you are living with a cancer diagnosis everyone sees that fear out in the open so a lot of conversations start with "How are you?" which really means "How afraid of dying are you today?" which gets tiresome because the answer is mostly "I'm fucking terrified thanks for asking" but instead I say "I'm better every day" which is technically true but some days are better than others.
So in reality there is no other side as originally expected. There is only carrying on which is hard. I am a pretty black and white person and I want the "all clear!" "Carry on!" "You're out of the woods!" But with cancer there never will be that I suppose. I will think about the other shoe dropping every 6 months when they test my blood (which will show markers of cancer regrowth if it comes back) and I will proceed with caution and the knowledge that I can die.
Maybe this sounds ridiculous but it's true. There is definitely a shift to feeling more mortal now that we've been through this and while it's scary right now I think as time spans out it will help us live better with less of a focus on saving everything for "someday" and just doing the awesome stuff now. There must be a silver lining here somewhere and so we are still seeking it from the inside out, wine in hand soon, and with sometimes fake smiles slapped on our faces.
Radiation was not my favourite. Not as awful as chemotherapy or the long list of other awful things people keep telling me to remember I don't have to go through; brain surgery, amputation, organ transplants. I get it. 3 nights in isolation feeling nauseated and lonely and scared with a terrible weird radiating feeling in your mouth isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person but it did suck and I'm allowed to say it. See? I said it.
I was a super radiation processor and was able to come out on the third day and go straight home (with strict instructions for 2 more days about contact - no kissing, using a separate washroom, sleeping by myself and not being closer than a meter to anyone). I can't properly tell you in words what the feeling of going outside that room and breathing fresh air and being able to walk around in the world felt like after three nights and two days with no contact with people. It felt pretty great but also felt renewing and fresh and like I had won a prize.
I had my full body bone scan on Easter Monday and it was fine. Nothing life changing. Nice to lay still with nowhere to go or be for an hour actually. I spent the time thinking "my life is so weird right now" and "I hope this scan shows nothing out of the ordinary" and "I wonder what's for dinner?".
The scan's purpose is simply to show where the radioactive iodine was absorbed and so they are looking for signs of absorption where my thyroid was and if it shows up anywhere else outside of that it would be considered the "out of the ordinary" that I'm hoping to hear nothing about. This week passed and I didn't have a phone call so I'm hoping for more radio silence until the end of May when I will review the scan with my endocrinologist. No new is good news in this case.
The number one struggle right now is being too tired to be inside the life we've built which means there is nothing left for outside either. Everything seems like an immense amount of energy expense and there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day for all the good parenting, healthy eating, exercising, meditating and living in the moment you're supposed to be doing when you have cancer. Every room in the house needs a scrub and purge and I simply can't and because Adam is so busy keeping up with all the other things he can't either.
We are being cautious about scheduling anything outside what's necessary which makes us the worst to be friends with right now. Most of our people have been very understanding but there have been a few along the way who simply don't get it and that's fine too. We are working from the inside out and hopefully by the time the weather is ready and the scan results are reviewed we'll be ready for more of the outside too.
The other day to day issue with living through a touch of cancer is you wear your fear on the outside. We are so good at hiding our fears on a regular basis and carrying on with life but once you are living with a cancer diagnosis everyone sees that fear out in the open so a lot of conversations start with "How are you?" which really means "How afraid of dying are you today?" which gets tiresome because the answer is mostly "I'm fucking terrified thanks for asking" but instead I say "I'm better every day" which is technically true but some days are better than others.
So in reality there is no other side as originally expected. There is only carrying on which is hard. I am a pretty black and white person and I want the "all clear!" "Carry on!" "You're out of the woods!" But with cancer there never will be that I suppose. I will think about the other shoe dropping every 6 months when they test my blood (which will show markers of cancer regrowth if it comes back) and I will proceed with caution and the knowledge that I can die.
Maybe this sounds ridiculous but it's true. There is definitely a shift to feeling more mortal now that we've been through this and while it's scary right now I think as time spans out it will help us live better with less of a focus on saving everything for "someday" and just doing the awesome stuff now. There must be a silver lining here somewhere and so we are still seeking it from the inside out, wine in hand soon, and with sometimes fake smiles slapped on our faces.
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| Freedom |
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