|At least I had a clean pair of gowns today.|
No, I don't get the feeling when I swallow saliva, but I do if I take a too big gulp of water (or any other liquid). Yes, this does affect my eating habits (not to mention frustrate me and make me cranky) and I have lost a few pounds since last week. I was told by Dr. H today to eat. He is not concerned about this weird back of head sensation, rather he thinks the irritation to my throat from the radiation is manifesting itself in this way (I don't have a terrible sore throat, but just mainly I don't feel like reading bedtime stories, singing songs or having long telephone conversations).
|Hmm... I wonder what kind of help they mean..|
Ah, radiation. While my experience has been, well, bizarre in a sci-fi-star-trek-medicine way, I've at least been able to laugh here and there. Like when my locker broke, with all of my belongings and warm clothes inside, and I had to wait for the heroic hospital maintenance guy to come and rescue me. Or when I put on a gown with boogie stains (it sure looks like boogies). Or when the radiation tech tugging me into position reveals she's pregnant. Okay, well maybe it hasn't been all giggles. But I do genuinely like my doctors and I appreciate the time they spend with me, never rushing me, always making me feel like a VIP.
In other news today, I met my students for a short field trip at the Barnes Foundation in Merion. I had never been there before (due to the need for purchasing timed tickets way in advance), so it was amazing for me to take it all in. For those of you who have also never visited the space, please check out their website for a complete description. Basically it's the most incredible collection of art housed in such a (relatively) small space. The foundation was meant to be an educational collection (which it is) as opposed to a museum, however, for many of my students, it was a first exposure to historical (and extremely valuable) art. It was a fantastic distraction for me to see up close and personal all of the Matisses, Rousseaus, Renoirs, El Grecos, etc. - all of which had absolutely NOTHING to do with cancer!! Sigh. And THANK YOU ROBYN!
The art was obviously a highlight. But seeing my kids was a total ego boost. They did not know I was coming, so it was fabulous to see the excitement in their faces when we saw each other as they got off the bus. I opted to go hatless (indoors, of course), as I would say there is finally a fairly uniform follicular covering at this point. When we went downstairs to hang up our jackets and I removed my hat for the big reveal, the kids all clapped and cheered - my personal equivalent of being lifted onto shoulders and passed around after a big win. After hugs and small bits of news were exchanged, of course, they asked about my return to school with eyes full of hope. I explained that I still am having treatment every day and so I won't be back until after Christmas, probably not until February (when hopefully I will have enough energy to tackle 32 9 & 10 year olds for 7 hours each day, plus plans, grading, etc.). They were disappointed, but happy enough to have me there with them to overlook it. It's nice to know they miss me as much as I miss them.
I haven't been in the greatest of spirits lately. Visiting the hospital on a daily basis, feeling tired and reminded of my illness is (kinda) depressing. Not being able to take comfort in delicious foods is irritating. And don't get me started on my time(s) of the month. Sorry, Dan.
Looking back on 2010 and wondering where the past 7 months went (not to mention the 18 months prior to that) is mind blowing. Looking ahead to 2011 and wondering how I'll get through the 3 months I must wait until my next scan is terrifying. Have I mentioned yet how I detest uncertainty? Hell, I don't even like to listen to a cd unless I have the cover to tell me the order of the upcoming songs. This whole cancer crap was never in my plans and lately I've been feeling pretty damn pissed that it was pushed onto my plate without my permission. It's just not fair.
So Close for anyone who is interested in the deepest darkest thoughts of someone struggling to bring children into her family). Basically, cancer sucks.
|I'm so fancy!|
Finally, a big shout out to the incredible helping hands that jumped at the chance to help us out with dinners again. The next few weeks filled up in the blink of an eye (which is SO helpful). I cannot tell a lie - you guys can really cook. I can't wait for the kitchen to be done and my mojo to return so we can pay it forward.