I feel fragile today. And I feel like everything around me is fragile, too.

*Post 936

It’s Friday. What a Week :: 10/27/17 :: Post 60

It’s Friday. I am sitting here reflecting on all that has happened this week and I am exhausted. I feel good about the week, it wasn’t a bad week, but it was most definitely a hard week. Each day brought difficulty and new challenges to face.

Today was tough for a few reasons…

One, I was in some physical pain today from my most recent post-op fill-up on Wednesday. My chest wall is so tight. The muscles are rock hard, and it will take them a good long while to get used to being so stretched. Each move hurt today…breathing, reaching, carrying things, sneezing, blowing my nose…even holding up my arms to type on my keyboard. It’s amazing how much pectoral muscles do in the day-to-day. None of the pain was unbearable, rather……..a constant reminder of that which I battle. That’s the hard part. So, while I feel almost normal in so many other ways, nothing about this is normal. It’s all a hard new life.

Two, I had some interesting interactions with clients today. I served one who didn’t even skip a beat that I look the way I look. It was refreshing to be with her in that I could just focus on her, help meet some of her needs, and do the job that I love to do without being all-consumed by the life I’m currently living. I was able to temporarily forget all that I’m in the midst of to be present with another in the midst of all that she is in. And it felt like the days before cancer. And then a short time after that, I greeted a client in the waiting room that literally stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw me. I could see her eyes move from my eyes to the top of my head. She fumbled a bit with her wallet as she got out her ID for me to copy. Now, without making this all about me, she could have been in her own crisis and she could have been functioning from that space or, she could have very much been thrown off by how I appeared. Either way, I had a moment of being “rubber-band-snapped” back into the hard reality I am living. And the human side of me wondered what she was thinking…it mattered to me, even if just for a moment. And I was left with ‘do I justify?’ or ‘do I stay silent?’ That is a hard place.

Three, I work tomorrow. I will have a choice tomorrow morning, again, to show up at training in front of a whole new class of volunteers with my shaved head or a wig or a hat. I have a choice tomorrow morning to share or not to share as I introduce myself. I face yet another hard place of what to say, what is appropriate, what is necessary, what is authentic and genuine… Another unknown that I will only know until I am there, in it. Yet.Another.Hard.Unknown….brought about by cancer.

Four, I have chemo on Monday and as it gets closer, my heart grows weary of the battle. And while I will be one step closer, the end is not near. I have much left and I’m already tired. Not defeated, but so very tired….

It’s been a long week full of moments of joy and moments of grief. Moments of fear and moments of boldness. Moments of nostalgia for the way it was and moments of the hard reality of the new. Moments of relief for all that has already been battled and moments of dread for what is ahead.

My shoulders have carried a lot this week. My head has processed much. My heart has held so many emotions. My body has felt it all.

Nothing :: 10/27/18 :: Post 409

Today there just isn’t anything to say…

October 27 of 31 :: 10/27/19 :: Post 772

I felt dreadful today. Every step was taken in pain. Heartburn, nausea and lightheadedness followed me throughout the day. And I had a 13-hour day…. It was truly minute by minute because any more than that was too much to handle. I’m finally home and can barely think straight enough for more words. So this is it for the night.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month…

…Day twenty-seven – Radiation is truly bizarre. I laid on this hard slab of metal, my body held in place by rigid foam that had been molded around me because one millimeter off, and the machine wouldn’t have worked. I had to breathe in and hold my breath, just so exact, because every centimeter mattered so my heart didn’t get damaged by the treatment. And then a series of clicks and hums and 5 minutes later, I was done. I did that for 28 days straight. Nothing touched me, nothing was injected into me, no needles, no pills to swallow…just clicks and hums. During treatment, my skin was burnt and peeling. Now almost two years later, I can look down and see the significant damage done to the tissue below.