Kate here. An odd day. Up and down, and around again, and all about nothing really. Just the aches and pains and quiet [sometimes needfully silent, I bore myself with it] internal moans of daily life with cancer, and its nemesis, chemotherapy. My friend Val says I am made of strong stuff. I sure hope so.
I had some lovely mail today from near and far, and reminders throughout the day to keep the faith, keep the faith. Emails, phone messages, cards in the mail - please know they keep me afloat when I am tired, sore, angry, sad, and they boost me immensely. Better than a drug. So keep it coming. Please.
Just so you know, I rarely if ever answer the phone. It is too much to constantly have to put it into words. Writing is easier, since I can control the emotional triggers and reactions - which is very hard to do on the phone. And mostly, since so much of my physicality and its well-being is now in the hands of others, having a measure of control is quite necessary and a salve.
Today - speaking of salves, food - the salve of a previous incarnation of this body - I had Bob's beets, yummy, sweet, dark red - surely immune system boosters. A hint of cinnamon, methinks. Erin made sinfully delicious macaroni and cheese with pancetta and pimento. Soul food. Thank you.
An odd day, measured, on a physical scale of 1-10 as a 5 - general ick factor high. Middling, to low fare. On an emotional scale, another story. About a 2. Cranky, with a cold neck, and a rough bristly head. Angry. Bored. Frustrated. Exhausted. Realizing today is a haunting day of memory for a friend, and that others close to me have their own pains to endure. Of course, what human doesn't? This is not a bubble I live in here - more a permeable sphere, where things move in and out, from other people's own permeable spheres.
This chemo is strong stuff - hard to watch as it enters the body, knowing it is poison, as my brother says. Hard to know it is coursing through my veins, but knowing the poison is also a life giving potion. The elixir which allows me to state with a certain degree of certainty I will survive.
Strong stuff. Letters from friends, beets, poison.
Stronger still - the pull of your child. Tonight, the dam finally broke for Naomi- denial is no longer a viable option. With plaintiff voice, and hands firmly grabbing both my cheeks in a fierce grip - "Mummy, I think about you dying every night. I don't want you to die." Trembling lower lip. My legs hollow out and buckle thinking of it. I would trade it for a lifetime of whining for stuff - nintendo, barbies, body piercing, whatever. Surprisingly, the Christmas lists for all are short this year. But that is for another post.
Strong stuff indeed.