So, most of you that know me well, know that I am an all or nothing person. Not sure if it's the red hair or growing up in a very toxic environment, but I tend to go from one extreme to the other. And that is never more true than how I deal with this stupid disease. As we've discussed before, I'm either talking about it ad nauseum, or completely shut off and barely even mentioning it. I also LOVE to put on my "I'm totally fine, I don't need any help" face until it all hits me and I fall into tiny pieces on the floor. Wanna guess how yesterday went?
Yesterday I headed off to Atlanta for my first round of the "extra-special-cure-all-radiation" that we've been pushing for. All was good. I had my phone, ipad, snacks, my work computer, magazines and a dozen other things to keep me occupied. I was in good spirits and in my head it was just another trip down I-20. I got to talk with one of my best friends along the way and listen to some good music - it felt like just a fun road trip with some quality girl time.
I got to the Cancer Treatment Center and I was all smiles. I was ready to get this show on the road and finally get back in the fight. Way too much time had gone by with us doing nothing but waiting. And again, those that know me well, know I'm terrible at waiting. The only thing I'm worse at is giving up chocolate. So, I get checked in, back to a room and the process begins. I got some medicine to calm my nerves, then an IV with more happy juice (why can't we have that stuff EVERY DAY?) and then a local anesthetic to numb the area they'd be going through to get to my lung. During all this I'm joking with the nurses and doctors. I then have to leave my phone behind and it's like a mini-vacation, just hooked up to several wires. I don't have to worry about work because no one can get ahold of me. It's sord of like going to the spa....okay, maybe not that relaxing, but close enough.
The procedure is finished and I'm taken back to the holding area, I mean recovery room, to wait for the xray. They take one as a precaution to make sure my lung didn't collapse during the internal radiation. Once that is complete, I just hang out for awhile to make sure I'm not going to get sick from any of the meds. When I'm able to show that I'm of stable mind (as much as I normally am), I decide it's time to hit the road in order to avoid some of the fun Atlanta rush hour traffic. Birmingham friends, I know we complain profusely about 280 and I do everything to avoid it, but Atlanta at 5:00 is 1 million times worse. I seriously pity the people that live there. Not that I would ever leave this area, but if I was forced to, it would never be to there.
The drive back home was pretty uneventful. I missed the worst part of Atlanta traffic and got back to BHM when most of ours was done. My goal at that point was to make it home in time to put Alex to bed. I know my hubby could do it just fine, but that's my normal job and even though I pretend it's for my son, the truth is it's my favorite part of the day. I could feel myself getting worn out and emotionally drained. I kept trying to lighten my mood with some upbeat music, but it just wasn't cutting it. My adrenaline was draining fast and then it was just a race against the clock. Happily, I did make it home before little man was asleep and first thing I did was grab him and hug him tight. It was almost like I was willing his energy and life into my body. My poor hubby - I almost forgot to say hi and give him a kiss.
Off to tuck in my sweet boy and I could feel the emotions bubbling to the surface. I just keep praying that God would hold them off until I got Alex to sleep and I wouldn't start crying in front of him. Luckily the prayers worked and I made it to the couch before falling apart. And fall apart I did. I started crying, sobbing is more like it, once my head hit the throw pillow. I can't even tell you what the tears were for. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe because the soreness was setting in, or maybe because I could only avoid how serious this is for so long.
I tried to get the tears to stop by scrowling through Facebook. Big mistake! I follow the blog of a woman who is terminally ill from cancer and currently on hospice. Yesterday she was writing about how hard it is for her to ask for help and how this causes her to be more exhausted in the end. And how she has a ton of offers from friends but it's so hard for her to accept them. It was as if she was writing every.single.thought.in.my head! So then I started crying because of how terrible I am at asking for help and what a stupid ninny I can be for putting on such a front. I mean, really people! My hubby was in the other room happily watching a movie and had no idea I was having a come apart and I was trying to be quiet so he wouldn't hear me. How stupid is that?!?
At this point my eyes were sore from crying and I knew it was time for the chocolate. Of course that helped a bazillion times over and I was on the road back to a small amount of sanity. And that's when I got the text from one of my best friends. This is what it reads: "I know you are probably sitting on the couch eating your chocolate, either pretending you are fine or just having had your melt down from trying too long to pretend your fine. In either scenario, know I love you and I'm here. And you better save some for me."
How blessed am I? Radiation? Check. Happy juice? Check. Amazing, awesome, wonderful, glorious, superb, hysterical, loving, caring friends? Check. Take that Cancer. You are outnumbered.
