www.cancermonster.net

2:30p
Before I say how well my day has gone so far (cough cough) I need to make an entry into a glossary of sorts:

It’s a WALKER.  It’s not called a “Stander”, a “Sitter”, or even a “Layer-Downer.”   It’s called a WALKER and the Physical Therapists at the Hospital gave it to me to USE. I know the vast majority of exercise equipment in this country is used as a coat rack or plant stand, but I plan to use the WALKER I was given to walk.  Did I walk a marathon with it?  Did I walk from Portland to Lincoln City? No.  I walked a short ways down a short path.  I stood for a while and then I took a nap.

That being said, I love you all.  Even the ones trying to get me in my bed.  I Love you guys especially.

Maybe it’s because I have had severe Fibromyalgia for the last almost eight years, but I am able to read my own body.  I know when I can walk and when I should take it easy.  I know when I need to take something and when I can push through it.  I know when I need to get to my bed.  If I posted that I slept for two hours and I emptied my drains and took some pills and slept for two more hours . . . If I posted pictures of myself asleep. . . That wouldn’t make for a very good read, now would it?  And it wouldn’t make for a very good life either.

See, this is not just a story, this is my life.  Somehow, my life has taken a sharp left and I am holding on for everything it’s worth.  But I am Fine.   I know that is hard to believe and you think that I am just saying it. . . Or I am being naïve. I am not crazy brave enough to think that the chemo will be easy.  If I really thought that, would I be uprooting my family for a mad dash across country? We are heading to where we have the most help concentrated in the smallest area because the chemo is going to be crazy hard.  And I have these little children that are going to need care.  And I will be throwing up and losing hair and very very sick.   I need help.  I need help when I get to Florida because the Chemo will start quickly.  I will not be fine then.

But until then, I am fine.   Sure I just got run over by a freight train.  I had two major surgeries in five days with only five days after that in the hospital.  But MENTALLY, and sometimes Physically too, I am fine.  It’s a matter of deciding that your fine.   There was a fella in the room next to me at the hospital that wasn’t fine.  He wanted everyone to know it too.  And he didn’t bother with that button that called the nurses station.  He just yelled at the top of his voice, out the door and down the hall.  “I’m HUNGRY!!!!!!”  It was midnight.  I was awake now and come to think of it, a hamburger did sound kind of good, but I wasn’t going to shout down the hall to get it.  And the language he was using would have impressed me if I went in for that kind of talk. Which I don’t.   I wanted to slip a note across to him.

“Hey, Fella?  Practice Happiness!”

But I didn’t.    It did make me look much better next door to that very sad sack.  Life didn’t please him.  That’s really unfortunate for him.

I see my job in this adventure as that of example.  No, No, no.  I am not saying that I am the perfect patient.  In fact there are some nurses that were happy to see me go, I know.  Hey, you get me or you don’t.  I have had a love/hate relationship with society my whole life.  But my goal, other than kicking this monster’s butt like he tried to kick mine, is to show that bad things can happen to you and you can still have a good life.  You can fight with pride and courage and determination and you can still laugh and poke fun and see the good things around you.   If I can help one other person see that they can get through their monster fight without giving up, then I will have passed the test I have set up for myself.   In doing this, I will keep myself from falling to pieces.  By not letting YOU down, I am holding myself up.

I am fine.  If I tell you that I am fine, you can believe it.

********
Last night Dan was removing the tape and bandages from my back –upper and lower– so that I could finally have a proper shower.  I swear he was getting much too much joy out of the removing of the tape. . . but he swears it isn’t true.  Ppfft.

“You know what you look like?

Now, mind you, I am standing there naked and my husband is now looking at my back, with 70 some odd stitches running down my side where they took out the muscle and sewed me back up and 25 staples running across my brand new rebuilt butt cheek.  There are tubes coming out of various sites running to drainage bulbs hanging in tangles across my side.  Tape gunk running here and there, cris-crossing the battle field that is my back.  And my husband says, “Do you know what you look like?”  I know what I think I look like, but I don’t have a clue what my dear husband thinks I look like right at that most vulnerable moment.

“What do I look like?”  Here it comes . . .

“You look like a Borg from StarTrek.”

“That’s great! I am a half person, half robot.  I am Teresus of Borg!  My designation is One of One.  Resistance is Futile.”

“Sex is futile, you mean.”  He came up with that line way to fast!

“Yes.  For now.”

If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for Dan.  He is now living with a Borg.

*************
Late this afternoon, my Dear Friend from Southern California,  Nalana and her husband Mike and their two boys pulled in.  They will be hanging out here for a couple days.  I am so happy to get to see her before we head to the east coast.  Nothing big.  Just chatting and a fire. Perfect.

I will be back in the morning to let you in on more adventures of the last couple weeks.

Tomorrow is another day.  One I can’t wait to live.

I Have News For The Monster: Resistance is Futile.