What? Yes, I do realize it is Monday...
Between grading and nanowrimo (14,494 words, hopelessly under the goal - yet 14,494 words more than if I wasn't participating) blogging has taken a definate back seat this month.
While organizing my writing folders I came across some random notes/ideas I jotted down during my breast cancer ordeal. So I thought I would take Monday morning off from nano and post them.
The following are excerpts from a random brain dealing with breast cancer circa 2006....
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The anticipation/anxiety at the beginning. How the adrenaline rushes the day of a doctor’s appointment was the same chemical imbalance one gets when excited about something good yet scary. Or like anticipating having to get up in front of an audience of one’s peers and speak. My heart raced. Light-headed. Butterflies in the stomach. Wasn’t a feeling of dread or sadness or foreboding. On the one hand, this might be a good sign. If my body and emotions felt an anticipatory high, any news coming that day must not be bad. The lymph nodes would all be negative. The margins would be negative. On the other hand, it could be wishful thinking gone amuck. A reckless clinging, or was it bracing, against another round of bad news.
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Is all this necessary, or am I just a big cash cow? When I walk in the oncologist’s office does she see me, the person, or am I a giant walking dollar sign? A new car? A few months tuition to one of her kid’s swanky private schools? Probably the one my own son wanted to go to that we cannot afford. Perhaps the one my daughter attended but we pulled her out of because of the huge debt we were falling into trying to pay for it. It didn’t help when the chemo nurses continually dropped little morsels of information. “Your doctor always orders that shot.” At $6,613 a visit, chemotherapy seemed a fortune for someone, many someones. Huge debts for me, but I couldn’t help wondering if the only reason I succumbed was superstition. Going against the doctors advice would mean if it came back everyone could nod their heads at me as if to say, “it’s your fault, should have had the chemo.”
Is it so hard to see me as a person? Read my chart before you come in the room? Jot down a note of my wishes and objections so you remember, or can at least remind yourself, the next time? And by the way, since we are here on my dollar, maybe we could talk about me; I know way more about you, your family, and your problems than I need to Doc.
Hunkering down and weathering the storm.
Finding the root cause, because maybe it’s still going on around me. Inside me...
People say, “oh, I don’t want to burden you when you are going through cancer and chemo,” and they then proceed to tell me all their problems.
The problem with being positive and trying not to appear sick – people start making demands of you instead of appreciating you not being a burden.
I miss visiting you all, hope to catch up in bits and most definately after November 30th.
For more Randomness, head on over to Keely at The Unmom's.