Had a rough night last night. Woke up at least four times having "power surges" that only lasted 10 minutes or so each. I am much more aware of my stomach than I was at this point in round one. Perhaps that's because of the adjustment in my anti-nausea meds. I'm still eating and drinking just fine, but just burping a bit more than usual. It's a beautiful sunny day once again so that helps a lot. I just finished writing a grant application, and still need to pump out another one today, but I'd rather be asleep or at least not looking at a computer screen. I feel emotionally drained and a bit stressed out but I feel lucky to have mindfulness skills that can keep me focused on the here and now when I need it.
I want to share an experience I had at the cancer center on Friday afternoon that really threw me for a loop. My friend and I were sitting in the lobby waiting for my quick appointment to get a white blood cell-boosting injection, and she stepped out for a moment to make a phone call. The woman next to me asked if my friend was my daughter. Now, I should clarify that my friend and I are only months apart in age, that she is in her third trimester of pregnancy and just beautiful and full of life energy, and I am getting used to having no hair on my head. After wiping some tears out of my eyes, I told the woman that we're the same age, adding the comment that "cancer will do that to you." I was really in shock that she perceived me to be at least 12 years older than my friend. She didn't apologize or say anything really, and then mentioned that she was there with her daughter (who looked pretty close to my age), and that her husband also has cancer. I can still picture the glazed over look in her eyes as she shared that with me. She said "when it rains, it pours." I talked with her daughter until we got called in for the shot appointment, and it was actually nice to connect with another person my age who is dealing with cancer treatment, even if it's a totally different kind of cancer. She had just finished her last chemo treatment for endometrial adenocarcinoma and said that she'd be back in 3 months to see if it had gone into remission. So now that I've had some time to process this interaction it has become clear that the woman who started the conversation was really just trying to connect, and that she didn't necessarily perceive me to be old enough to be my best friend's mother. There's still some residual doubt in my mind about how different I look without hair, but in the big picture I know how old I am and so what if I look different than I feel?
I don't know quite how to put into words how this is all affecting me, but the process of writing this blog certainly helps. It is becoming clear that there are major differences in the experience of the person with cancer and that of their caregivers. There is an isolation and helplessness that happens for people in both roles, and although I don't think it's particularly useful to rate the difficultly of each role, I wonder whether it's actually harder for the caregivers. I at least know exactly what it feels like to have cancer and to be treated for it. I can take simple actions like being aware of my breath to come into my experience. I can avoid seeing myself in mirrors or I can cover up my balding head. I can control a certain amount of what happens to me. I can make decisions about my medical, nutrition, and physical activities. I also can't control a ton of things, and the struggle is to figure out which things are worth trying to control. It is complicated to make space for everyone to react to new information the way they need to, but I think this is a process to negotiate with the other people involved. I'm learning so much about what is important to me, and how I want to live my life in even the shortest of moments. My friend brought me a great book called "Being well, even when you're sick." I've only read one chapter so far, but it's helped me a lot. Guess I better get back to grant writing, thanks for reading!
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