Time

I have been going through photos like crazy.  Updating the kids blog and putting the pictures in albums.  I ran across these 2 photos and well for some reason, I just kinda lost it.  These photos brought up so many emotions, I couldn't stop crying.

 

 

This picture was taken a bout a year and a half ago.

 

 

 

 

And this one was taken in Turkey almost a year ago.

 

 

Life has changed so much since then.

 

That Person

Written by another blogger:

"It seems like you can’t rank anguish.
You shouldn’t be able to “out-suffer” someone.
How do you quantify misery?
And yet, somehow we do.

“My problems are nowhere near as bad as yours are.”
“I feel terrible complaining to you about it when you are going through so much yourself.”

I hear these types of comments all the time.
I make these types of comments all the time.
Placing ourselves in a hierarchy of pain and suffering serves to ground us;
no matter how bad our situation is,
there’s comfort in knowing there is always someone who has it worse.

Like being on a really, really long line at the movies or at airport security,
as long as there is someone behind you, it somehow seems better.

Hospitals use a pain rating scale: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is your pain?” When our son Colin was in the hospital for 9 days with a ruptured appendix, they asked him to rate his pain. I was intrigued at his difficulty in answering the question. At the time he was 5 years old and didn’t understand what they wanted him to do. Colin didn’t understand the concept of comparing one level of pain to another; His abdomen hurt… that’s all he knew. He used a binary scale to assess his pain: did it hurt or not? As adults we know better: pain is not a yes-or-no question. Rather, there can be levels, ranking, quantification, and comparisons.

These mental exercises are necessary to keep us going through hard times,
no matter what type.
Before I got cancer, cancer was a “go-to” negative reference point.
I mean, how many times had I, and everyone I know, thought or said,
“I’ve got health problems, but at least it’s not cancer”?
I had done that a lot.
A benign lump needs to come out? At least it’s not cancer.
A mole needs to be removed? At least it’s not cancer.
My son has hand and neck deformities and a cyst in his spinal column? At least it’s not cancer.
Then one day it was cancer.

So what could I pacify myself with?

At least it’s not terminal.
At least they can remove the body parts the cancer is in.
At least this debilitating treatment will be temporary and I have the possibility of returning to a normal life again.
Then there was the big one: at least it’s happening to me and not my child.

And when I found out that my cancer had metastasized,
I could not calm myself with those comforting refrains anymore.

Now it is terminal.
Now they can’t remove the body parts it is in.
Now the debilitating treatments are permanent and I don’t have the possibility of returning to anything close to a normal life again.
I have often said I have hated becoming anyone’s negative reference point. “At least I’m not her” people now often think of me. I always thought that meant they pitied me. I didn’t want that."


Sometimes someone else can express what I am feeling better than I can.  She did a pretty good job.
I don't want to be "that" person.  That girl.  That child's mom.  That husbands wife.  That friend, sister, daughter.  I don't want to be her.  I don't want to be the "well I know a girl that found out she had cancer while 9 months pregnant with their fourth child" girl.  I just want to be me.  I hate being the center of attention, always have, always will. But somehow in a gathering, the attention always gets shifted to me.  I just want to talk about my crazy husband and his adventures, or my silly dog, or my wonderful kids.  Not the chemo, surgeries, radiation or side effects.  I just want to feel "normal" and not that person.  

Beyond Tired

Tired doesn't begin to describe how I have felt lately.
Fatigued. Exhausted. Worn-out. Drained.
Pretty much all of the above.
But it somehow goes beyond that.
I can't describe it.
I have been tired before - with chemo, sleep deprivation with a newborn or sick child, with 24 hour jet lag.
This is not the same. 
Physically I am tired.

I don't want to think any more about "it".
I am ready to be done with "it".
I want my life back.
I am tired of medical people telling me what to do.
I am tired of waiting in waiting rooms.
I am tired of my time not being my own.
Mentally I am tired.

I know I am getting closer to the end of this, so why then am I still crying so much?
Shouldn't I be happy and excited?
I am tired of the ups and downs.
I am tired of being short on patience.
Emotional I am tired.

I am tired of being tired.

I start radiation on Monday. 
The first and most experienced side effect of radiation is fatigue. (Also burnt skin at the site)
So sadly it is only going to get worse.

33 Rounds.
That means Monday thru Friday at 11:45 for the next 6.5 weeks you can find me in the radiation department at the hospital.

Getting everything in place.
I had physical therapy on Monday to help with the pain that is still in my right arm.
I met with my radiation oncologist yesterday.
I also had a CT scan and tattoos done yesterday.
My Muga (heart) scan today.

Tired.  Just tired.