I'm all over the place tonight. I wish I had some wonderful, cogent theme to follow for you - I've started this a half dozen times, once actually talking about the Jupiter symphony the radio station was playing for Mozart's birthday - but none of it is real. (actually, the Jupiter was pretty fabulous:) What's real right now is - I can't sleep.
I've had to resort to OTC sleeping aids. I'm even dabbing Origin's sleep elixir on my head and tummy before I go to sleep. Warm milk, hot tea...can't do a hot bath thanks to "Rover", my drain. (I sometimes call it "Spott". Same thing...it's just my constant companion, hanging on my right side.)
I've not had sleeplessness like this in a long time. I used to have a hard time with it a few years ago, but that was different - I was waking every night around 3 a.m., my mind spinning like a top. I'd get up, curse up a silent storm so I didn't wake Charles, and then try to read or something. And then, one sunday when I happened to actually go to church, I heard the reading about Samuel being called by God in the middle of the night. It was a nice parallel and I thought, "what the hell??" and started calling my sleepless nights my "Samuel nights." I'd get out my journal and then just write whatever it was that was rattling around in my head until I'd wear myself out, then go back to sleep.
This went on for about 3 months, about 3 or 4 nights a week. Finally, one day I saw something wierd, some guy doing something odd, and I thought, "Wow. I hope I wake up tonight...I want to write about that!" And right then, I knew it. My Samuel nights were over. I didn't wake up again for years!
So, what the heck do I call these evenings, when I toss and turn until 3 trying desperately to sleep?? Heck if I know. Frustrating as hell?? A special form of torture?? How about "Sleepless Torment"?? I wish I could find some soft and fluffy way to describe these nights and make them a wonderful life lesson, but I can't. They just suck.
It's not like I'm not trying things... Mom's been railing at me to get more exercise. Attie and I have been going on 45 minute walks on the bayou. (That's him up there in the picture. And, okay. We just started yesterday. Tonight, about half way through, he pooped out and laid upside down in the grass with his four platter-sized feet in the air, just to make his point. For those of you wondering, NO, getting exercise yesterday DID NOT help me sleep last night!) [Atticus slept wonderfully though. Snored all night.] I didn't take a nap today, which I'm sure will help. I'm working until I'm tired, instead of thinking about being tired...(okay, yes, you're pointing out that I'm sitting here writing about it... don't be a stickler!)
Anyway, so why is this happening?? A few reasons. As most of you know, I lost my girl-parts at the same time that I lost a boob. They yanked my uterus, tubes and my remaining ovary, which was going nuclearm, about the size of a large orange when it was removed. Good thing to take it out. The uterus was full of benign tumors as well - so, all in all, it's a very positive event that all those nasty parts have gone bye-bye. But, this also means that all the hormones they were pumping (POURING!) into my system are also bye-bye, and I'm getting the sense that my body has developed a jones for them... kinda like a crack addict, just searching out for an estrogen fix...
Beyond chemical, there's the emotional component as well. Now, don't get me wrong - I know I'm a very VERY VERYVERY blessed woman. I'm so freaking lucky with the way this has all turned out that I hardly have any room to complain ! I mean, there are women who are NEEDLESSLY dying right now from this disease because they didn't have access to care, or didn't have the information they needed to recognize what was going on in their bodies, or are dealing with a virulent form of the disease that's ravaging their bodies as they watch in the mirror... No - my life is very good, boobless or not.
Buuuuutttt... I have gone through a dramatic life change, and it's not something to be discounted.
What is a woman? It's not her parts. We all know that and it's a no brainer...except it's not. There's knowing something in your head, and then knowing something in your heart. And, deep down, there's still that little girl in me that want's to be "pretty." "Cute." "Beautiful." She wants to wear pretty dresses and feel lovely, have long flowing hair and be a woman radiating fecundity and health.
I am beautiful - I've got that now - but there is that moment in the mirror in the morning where the Divine Sense of Humor smiles back at me, asking me to see my true beauty beyond my goofy hair, my divoted chest and my scarred abdomen. I can see it reflected there, but some days it takes some work.
I can't believe I'm putting this here, but feeling like I was a fully fledged girl was always difficult for me. I felt so outsized, and we moved around a lot so I was always the wierd kid in school. It was tortuous, but it gave me a very strong inner life that I thoroughly enjoyed. It also left me feeling kinda alien, though. I've spent a great deal of my adult life coming to terms with that and searching for my own beauty. And, true to form, I finally got it just before I was diagnosed with cancer the first time.
It was as if God said, "Okay! Good! You got it... you're beautiful! Now... I'm taking away your hair... are you still beautiful???" And the answer was yes. And now, God's saying..."Okay, now we're taking away a breast and what you think is your fertility...What's the verdict??" And, yeah, I know the answer to this one, and yeah, I get it.... but what a lesson!!
I've maintained before all of this that God put me on the planet because She knew I'd get all of her jokes. This is taking it a bit too far!
So that's it for tonight. Please forgive me for being mildly insipid, and please, before you sleep tonight, say a prayer for all of my bosom sisters who are dealing with this disease, in particular my friend Dana's mom Ruth, who's not in good shape at all. And remember to support breast cancer research funding - this is a disease we can all defeat.
I'm going to bed...maybe I'll actually fall asleep this time...
OH! By the way, here's the status on my treatments. Until "Rover" comes out, I'm not getting any treatments. They're all on hold until the drain is out. I find out tomorrow whether it's coming out and if so, I get my first dose of Abraxane this friday. I don't know when the Xeloda starts. (BTW - a friend pointed out that for some reason prescription drugs need to have Xs in them... and since I have two drugs with Xs, with one of them starting with an x, I must be really getting the good stuff! :) I'll post when the situation changes. And yeah, I'm going to lose my hair again. Sheesh.
I've had to resort to OTC sleeping aids. I'm even dabbing Origin's sleep elixir on my head and tummy before I go to sleep. Warm milk, hot tea...can't do a hot bath thanks to "Rover", my drain. (I sometimes call it "Spott". Same thing...it's just my constant companion, hanging on my right side.)
I've not had sleeplessness like this in a long time. I used to have a hard time with it a few years ago, but that was different - I was waking every night around 3 a.m., my mind spinning like a top. I'd get up, curse up a silent storm so I didn't wake Charles, and then try to read or something. And then, one sunday when I happened to actually go to church, I heard the reading about Samuel being called by God in the middle of the night. It was a nice parallel and I thought, "what the hell??" and started calling my sleepless nights my "Samuel nights." I'd get out my journal and then just write whatever it was that was rattling around in my head until I'd wear myself out, then go back to sleep.
This went on for about 3 months, about 3 or 4 nights a week. Finally, one day I saw something wierd, some guy doing something odd, and I thought, "Wow. I hope I wake up tonight...I want to write about that!" And right then, I knew it. My Samuel nights were over. I didn't wake up again for years!
So, what the heck do I call these evenings, when I toss and turn until 3 trying desperately to sleep?? Heck if I know. Frustrating as hell?? A special form of torture?? How about "Sleepless Torment"?? I wish I could find some soft and fluffy way to describe these nights and make them a wonderful life lesson, but I can't. They just suck.
It's not like I'm not trying things... Mom's been railing at me to get more exercise. Attie and I have been going on 45 minute walks on the bayou. (That's him up there in the picture. And, okay. We just started yesterday. Tonight, about half way through, he pooped out and laid upside down in the grass with his four platter-sized feet in the air, just to make his point. For those of you wondering, NO, getting exercise yesterday DID NOT help me sleep last night!) [Atticus slept wonderfully though. Snored all night.] I didn't take a nap today, which I'm sure will help. I'm working until I'm tired, instead of thinking about being tired...(okay, yes, you're pointing out that I'm sitting here writing about it... don't be a stickler!)
Anyway, so why is this happening?? A few reasons. As most of you know, I lost my girl-parts at the same time that I lost a boob. They yanked my uterus, tubes and my remaining ovary, which was going nuclearm, about the size of a large orange when it was removed. Good thing to take it out. The uterus was full of benign tumors as well - so, all in all, it's a very positive event that all those nasty parts have gone bye-bye. But, this also means that all the hormones they were pumping (POURING!) into my system are also bye-bye, and I'm getting the sense that my body has developed a jones for them... kinda like a crack addict, just searching out for an estrogen fix...
Beyond chemical, there's the emotional component as well. Now, don't get me wrong - I know I'm a very VERY VERYVERY blessed woman. I'm so freaking lucky with the way this has all turned out that I hardly have any room to complain ! I mean, there are women who are NEEDLESSLY dying right now from this disease because they didn't have access to care, or didn't have the information they needed to recognize what was going on in their bodies, or are dealing with a virulent form of the disease that's ravaging their bodies as they watch in the mirror... No - my life is very good, boobless or not.
Buuuuutttt... I have gone through a dramatic life change, and it's not something to be discounted.
What is a woman? It's not her parts. We all know that and it's a no brainer...except it's not. There's knowing something in your head, and then knowing something in your heart. And, deep down, there's still that little girl in me that want's to be "pretty." "Cute." "Beautiful." She wants to wear pretty dresses and feel lovely, have long flowing hair and be a woman radiating fecundity and health.
I am beautiful - I've got that now - but there is that moment in the mirror in the morning where the Divine Sense of Humor smiles back at me, asking me to see my true beauty beyond my goofy hair, my divoted chest and my scarred abdomen. I can see it reflected there, but some days it takes some work.
I can't believe I'm putting this here, but feeling like I was a fully fledged girl was always difficult for me. I felt so outsized, and we moved around a lot so I was always the wierd kid in school. It was tortuous, but it gave me a very strong inner life that I thoroughly enjoyed. It also left me feeling kinda alien, though. I've spent a great deal of my adult life coming to terms with that and searching for my own beauty. And, true to form, I finally got it just before I was diagnosed with cancer the first time.
It was as if God said, "Okay! Good! You got it... you're beautiful! Now... I'm taking away your hair... are you still beautiful???" And the answer was yes. And now, God's saying..."Okay, now we're taking away a breast and what you think is your fertility...What's the verdict??" And, yeah, I know the answer to this one, and yeah, I get it.... but what a lesson!!
I've maintained before all of this that God put me on the planet because She knew I'd get all of her jokes. This is taking it a bit too far!
So that's it for tonight. Please forgive me for being mildly insipid, and please, before you sleep tonight, say a prayer for all of my bosom sisters who are dealing with this disease, in particular my friend Dana's mom Ruth, who's not in good shape at all. And remember to support breast cancer research funding - this is a disease we can all defeat.
I'm going to bed...maybe I'll actually fall asleep this time...
OH! By the way, here's the status on my treatments. Until "Rover" comes out, I'm not getting any treatments. They're all on hold until the drain is out. I find out tomorrow whether it's coming out and if so, I get my first dose of Abraxane this friday. I don't know when the Xeloda starts. (BTW - a friend pointed out that for some reason prescription drugs need to have Xs in them... and since I have two drugs with Xs, with one of them starting with an x, I must be really getting the good stuff! :) I'll post when the situation changes. And yeah, I'm going to lose my hair again. Sheesh.
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