Sunday, October 24, 2010

The urging to help people is really strong tonight. I read the posts of the suppory group for HL and my heart bleeds, I feel so helpless sitting here on a keyboard offering nothing more than how HL has affected me.
What's worse is I find myself saying things that I use to hate hearing like "think positive thoughts" or "look on the positive side". Of what? The toliet bowl? Cause that's where I've spent the last two days.
What happens to us when we begin to grow our hair agin and the hole where our Picc line used to thread heals over? We lose what it was to be there, to be in that place that is literally inconsolable. That place so dark that you are positive there are no others that could even faintly fathom what is happening in your world. This place, this spinning all alone on a lonely black planet where you are tortured by thoughts of "what if" and "should I". Thoughts on the monster that has begun to unravel your very soul, starting from the skin in.
I don't care what others swear to, you come out no better; but worse. You are in no way improved.
And these are no lessons that couldn't have been learnt by another method.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

A LATE JULY NIGHT

I wonder if anybody knows that I cry myself to sleep every night. I wonder if they know I want my fan on to move the atmosphere, not the air. I wonder if they can understand what its like to wait every morning for long strands of hair to fall loose and crawl toward the plughole in the shower. Or that I still allow at least half and hour for my showers and nearly always accidentally ask for someone's help in dressing my PICC line. I wonder if they could ever comprehend the reasoning behind me volunteering that I have cancer but hating it when people ask.
I know no one will ever understand that I miss it. I hate being well again. If I am well than I can fall sick again.
From 14/6/10- pm

I hesitate before towel-drying my hair and I hate running my hands through it. I keep imaging that it won't hold and it will begin to fall out again.
I can still feel it in between my fingers.
Every bloody time.
Ingriedients of Annie
Vinblastin, Bleomycin, Dexamethasone, Adriamycin, Dycramycin, Kytril, Emend, Stemitil, Maxalon, Ativan, Xanax, Temazapam, Zoloft, Medazalam, Endone, Panadeine Forte, Mersendol, Panadol, Nurofen, Nurofen Plus, Allopurinal, Gastrostop, Imodium, Senokot, Argoyl, Spiractine and broad/narrow spectrum anti-biotics.

  We are soldiers of an un-understood warfare. There is something that happens within us that cannot possibly be comprehended. There is a long journey ahead for me and many others, but in these times we have proven that we at least have a little strength and perhaps we can actually bear whatever comes our way. And perhaps I have just learnt that I actually do want to stay in this world for as long as I can.
  There is something in it now that makes it more beautiful. More appealing. During treatment, whenever I found myself feeling like I no longer want to fight, something small would happen. The littlest things- seeing my best friends little girl, finding a new piece of music I want to learn on the piano, a sunshower in the back garden. These things may only be small, but they  made me realise that life is worth the fight that some of us have to muster.
  I realise now that I do have strength and courage. My courage is excersised in the strength to breath from one moment to the next-nothing more. Courage is allowing the needle to enter my skin. Strength is not pulling away when I see those black packages full of poison. Faith is walking through the door of the chemo unit. Ambition is waking up each mornign anew.

Friday, October 1, 2010

I made a list of all the good things about having a bald head-
  Here is a list of some of them (feel free to add some)-
   * bald is the new black
   * Bruce Willis looks hot bald, and so can I (surely?)
   * I truly are a 'water-saver' with the shortest showers in history
   * scarfs make me look feminine and the ethnic headbands make me look a little like a "traveller" from a far of place
   * strangers smile at me for no reason, kind of like they do at Christmas time when the festive spirit infects everyone
   * I am exempt from judgment on my apperance (at least I hope I am?)
   * it allows me to concentrate on inner beauty, something I think we could all do more of
   * other cancer baldy's spot me a mile away and we sometimes spark up random conversatons like old friends