Lately, I
have failed to live up to my sterling reputation as a confirmed curmudgeon. I’ve
wondered, time to time if my unnaturally peppy state of mind might have been
just a little annoying. Awright, awready
with the peace and love to all mankind. You’re giving me a headache.
But I haven’t
lied to you. I know. It’s a pretty strange reaction to cancer and cancer
treatment, all things considered, but I’ve been lucky and I’m so grateful for
it.
However…
Just to be
clear, treatment is not exactly the party I’ve made it out to be. Well, maybe a
surprise party – with the surprises coming daily, sometimes hourly. I wake up
wondering what mischief my body has in store for me each day. There’s always
something.
Thursday –
I’m putting on makeup and suddenly notice peach fuzz growing down the side of
my right jaw. Just my right jaw. Huh. That wasn’t there before. The regrowth of
hair on my head is falling out at a very rapid pace; I shave my legs every 2
months & now (are you kidding me?) I’m growing a beard?! On my face…which
looks distinctly like someone has pumped helium into it and plans to use it as
balloon.
Also, just
for fun…my tongue looks like I glued cottage cheese to it and it burns like
hell. My throat is sore. My taste buds are at about 30%. Is that jam or ketchup
I just ate?
Steroids,
The Dave tells me. Oh those lovely steroids…the sleepless nights, the swelling,
the weight gain, the 30 second psychotic breaks when I’m overtired. He assures me that the hair growth will stop,
my face will eventually show evidence of bone structure and he gives me a
prescription to treat Thrush Mouth. And
I’m off…..
…To Friday,
when I wake up with zero vertigo. Zero!! Of course, the nerve damage in my feet
and ankles now makes it feel like I have jelly beans glued to the bottoms of my
feet in random places – but the room is not doing its’ merry-go-round motion. I’ve
woken in the night with sharp pain in my knees and down my shin bones & it
lasts until morning. But hell, I’m not dizzy and I feel good. When Heather goes
out, I do the dishes, sweep the floors, and clean the bathroom. Look at me go,
I’m thinking – I could pass for normal!
It’s a day
of phone calls and a visit from a friend who comes bearing lovely yellow
flowers and a huge box of European cookies.
A really enjoyable afternoon but 10 minutes after we say goodbye,I am
barely able to keep my eyes open and I can feel ‘roid rage surfacing. Steroid
rage is a very scary thing. It comes
at you like a sucker punch. You push to keep going that one last minute, you
put off resting for 30 seconds too long and you think you’re doing fine. And suddenly it’s as if any noise, any
movement, the very room itself is
closing in to attack. It doesn’t last but a minute, but it’s terrifying. That
night, I sleep 7 hours for the first time in months.
And hello
Saturday. Hello no vertigo again. I turn in a circle – a move that would have
toppled me a few days ago. The room stays still. I get dressed and sit down to
put my slippers on and observe that I am wearing someone else’s ankles. My
ankles are bony and thin. The ones I have on today are puffy and fat and don’t
like to bend. ‘Roids, ‘roids – do you ever stop giving?
Since
September, I’ve been scared to try beading. I have nerve damage in my fingertips.
My hands sometimes shake slightly. And heaven knows, my eyesight seems to
change hourly. But I steel myself. It’s a simple embroidery piece and I’m doing
textured fill-in. Should be easy. I put on my new reading glasses and find
myself moving the piece nearer and then farther away to focus. Finally, I cover
my left lens and my vision sharpens. I cover the right lens and it blurs. My
NEW prescription glasses, mind you. I stick it out, damn it, finally managing
not to stab myself or punch the needle into the wrong spot, but it’s damned
alarming to think I spend $900 on three new pair of glasses and my eyesight has
changed already. An hour later I try the
same lens covering test on my distance glasses. Same result.
Insert
small sigh here.
That’s how
it goes – really, it’s annoying. It’s inconvenient. Sometimes it’s plain infuriating.
But somehow, it doesn’t resurrect my inner curmudgeon. I’m still not unhappy. It’s the price of the
treatment and it’s not like you don’t have to pay. Many others with cancer are
in real agony and believe me, my side-effects are practically a bouquet of roses in
comparison and I know that.
And this
evening? I can see perfectly through the left lens of all my glasses. Surprise!
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