today i got injected with more radioactive dye, waited in a f-f-freezing cold waiting room, and then lay around while a massive machine took pictures of my heart. awesome. and i already got the results back...everything (physically) in my heart is a-okay.
and then i went up to the oncology department to check in with the oncology social worker. the best thing is that because he is based in oncology and not the mental health services department...he's free! he was very good to talk to. and he has a daughter named meghan. so there's that. and it's nice to be on the receiving end of social work. maybe everyone should be talking to a social worker and doing self breast exams constantly.
so.
monday morning i go back to the oncology department to watch a video on what to expect during chemo. then all day long my brother drives down here from montana. :)
then tuesday. tuesday's big. 8am.
the social worker told me a bit more about what i could expect...based on typical people. he said the first 3-5 days after chemo you are amped up on steroids. the next 5 days you plummet...he kept making an unsettling hand gesture like a very steep roller coaster fall. you fall into ridiculously extreme fatigue. he said it's not like your typical hard-day-at-the-office fatigue. it's often like you just can't get out of bed fatigue. and then you start to come out of that...and then you start to feel much much better. your best days are your days right before your next injection.
so...there's that to look forward to, i guess.
i'm psyched.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
-Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi 1207-1273, written in 1230
Posts
4 comments:
Dear Meghan,
It's so wonderful of you to report such thorough information so we can be with you every step of the way. Your comment that everyone should see a social worker,etc....made me remember my oncologist who, after undergoing treatments for her own cancer, became a better doctor to her patients. From what little I've learned about you on this blog, you probably couldn't be much better than you already are, but perhpas this experience will cause you to be the most sought-after social worker with the most compassion, insight, humor, tenderness,and desire to find the best/do the right thing/be the most amazing cancer survivor!
I'll be holding you in my heart on Tuesday morning and all through the steady days, plummet times, etc.
Love,
Linda
Meghan, this is a "getting-through-chemo-smoothie" that really does help. It's a lot tastier than the packaged protein cans in the supermarket. Thinking of you!!
1 (12 1/3 ounce) package tofu (I like Mori-Nu Extra-Firm Silken Tofu)
2-4 scoops protein powder
unsweetened fresh fruit or frozen fruit, to taste (bananas, berries, peaches, etc.)
whole milk, as needed
1 quart yogurt, any flavor (berry flavors work well)
Run the tofu through a food processor or blender til smooth, adding milk as needed to thin.
Add the protein powder and fruit to the blender, scraping down sides as needed.
Frozen fruit may be added to thicken (like ice) without substantially watering down the mixture.
Add more milk to thin, as needed.
Combine the tofu mixture and the yogurt in a mixing bowl and thin to taste, if necessary, with more milk.
Pour into individual drink containers, cover and store in the refrigerator.
Only make as much as can be drank in one to two days; make a fresh batch as needed.
Megan: I'm glad to see you're still spunky. Chemo will not be fun, but it won't be horrible. For me, it was more tiring than yucky. Just go with the flow on being tired. I was lucky and only lost most of my axillary and pubic hair -- permanently. No head hair. I hope you're lucky, too.
I'll be remembering you Tuesday.
Becky's mom.
(By the way, Becky was married 2 weeks ago on a barge across from the Statue of Liberty. It was quite fun.)
Dear Meghan,
I came across this poem written by a man whose beloved was diagnosed with breast cancer:
This river we travel on was not of our choosing.
We were not heading in this direction, when we slammed into the first rock.
Cancer - malignant. It took three doctors before we could even believe we had hit a rock.
By that time, we were upside down, over the first falls, taking on water, spinning, gasping for breath.
There were people on the bank calling to us - "You are in the river" "Start paddling" "Breathe" "There is another waterfall ahead" "Stay to the right" "Stay to the left" "Are you okay?" "Get out of the river" "You can make it downstream" "Others have gone before you"
When one is in a whirpool, one can not swim toward the surface, one can not overcome the downward force of the water. One must swim downward with the pressure, letting the turbulence push down, out then up. That requires presence of mind, especially when one is not sure what is up and what is down.
For the moment, we have righted the boat and are learning to paddle, know we are on the river, know there is rough water ahead, know there are people both on the bank and in the water to offer help and know that we will make it.
We will make this river our river.
Post a Comment