Breakfast and Burkhas – Reflections on the Day after Diagnosis
3 January 2012
So, what’s up gentle reader? Me? Not much except the giant mutant growth in my uterus was a freaking stage 3b tumor and not an alien being, much to my chagrin. Yep. Cancer. C word. I thought I’d be much more frightened by it than I am, but don’t be mistaken, it did rattle my cage. I may still be in the denial stage of grief or the bargaining stage, but while I know it is a big deal, it’s not destroying me. Perhaps this is normal, or perhaps not. I don’t know. All I know is that cancer sucks, and I am gonna lose my hair, and never again will I think that cancer would be a great way to lose a few pounds.
The hair thing. I wonder what that is gonna be like. My hairdressers always said I have a great shaped head for shaving. Maybe I will do like Deb did, and let Andy shave my head when the time comes. Maybe I’ll get some crazy neon wigs. I’ve also been thinking burkha. You know they can be quite the fashion statement, and maybe by making the locals think I am some sort of crazed terrorist, I could distract people from thinking “hey she has cancer”.( Statement of fact: I know that wearing a burkha does not automatically make you a terrorist, and it is a religious, and not an ideological, garment. I do not mean to imply that burkha wearing women are terrorists. And I respect a woman who wears one because she makes the choice that this is right for her. I oppose domination and oppression, but if this is your chosen faith, I believe you are entitled to it.) Now that I have clarified that…maybe I should take to wearing a sari and a bindi. Why not? It’s a fashion statement.
Waking up with cancer is like waking up like any other day, except that at some point you will remember you have cancer or someone will remind you of it. Then you will spend some time wondering what’s ahead. Then you will crack jokes about it with yourself. Maybe you will crack jokes with other people, but sometimes they will not think they are as funny as you do. Like when you say – what’s the worst that can happen? I die? Anything that’s not death is a plus. Probably. I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t die eventually anyway. And unlike a lot of people, I believe you are never really separated from those who pass, they are always connected to you, in this life, in another or just energy around you. However, I am not examining death and the afterlife today…lots of time for that, since I am not planning on dying before 98 anyway.
Curiously, telling people you have cancer is pretty strange. You almost feel guilty because you know it will stun/upset/unsettle them. Social networking is clearly a tool crafted to help you disseminate this kind of information. “Hey how r u? I have the Big-C. C u l8tr.<3” I am not telling people because I want pity or sympathy, I am telling them because having a friend who is diagnosed with cancer is a lot like driving past a car accident. You are concerned, but damn it you want to know what happened and how bad it is. We all want to know the details. FB has made that so easy to share this drama. Blogging on the other hand is more for me than for anyone else, I can share this journey, and my readers can comment if they want, or not, but it’s a means for me to visually sort through this mess. One more way to help define where I am at and where I need to be in my life. But anyway, the more I think about how I was able to pretty much tell everyone about my diagnosis with a couple hundred keystrokes, the more I realize what a boon and curse this whole internets is.
As for my surgery and this gargantuan tumor that was removed, I am healing really well according to my Dr. He’s a funny guy – he enjoyed my comment that I thought he was trying to turn me into a fountain when the lap sites sprung leaks. And for those of you afraid of the word vagina, stop reading here…because as he was taking out my staples yesterday, he said “so I’m not gonna do a vaginal exam today because I was down there just a week ago and I know what it was looking like – we’ll just wait til next visit” …I almost choked laughing. Follow this with how I really made him work to get that tumor out and how again, not only was it huge, but it was a very rare cancer in they found, but hey, if we just radiate the hell out of what’s left, I should be just fine. However, as it turns out, I have agreed to be a guinea pig, and participate in a clinical trial where I may or may not get radiation, but I will definitely get chemo. Yay!!!! I am so looking forward to that. Andy is gonna be so stoked when I start wearing crazy hats. I have to figure out how to make a tiara hat. And one with eyes on the back of it so it will always be staring back at people staring at me. I’ll need a monkey hat, a shark hat and a llama/alpaca hat too. Perhaps a chupacabra hat. Oh this could be so much fun!!!!
And I’ll probably get to have the pale sunken eyed look I used to strive so hard to have when I was a little gothling in my youth. All the look of death without the work. OOOOOH I said the death word. No I don’t think I am dying, so please sweet reader, don’t get all weirded out by it. I just want to try and emphasize the positive about this experience. (which isn’t much, so please don’t try to deny me of it) I have the list of possible side effects right here, and a pasty gothy skin promises to be one of them. I’m gonna go look for my black lipstick right now!!!
Dear kind followers, I have become rather tired and just found out I need to order oil, because of course, since I am penniless and waiting on my mileage reimbursement check, which will be a few weeks coming because I turned in six months at one time, and should have done it sooner, means now I get to play “where the hell is this money coming from?” Aww, my life…challenge challenge challenge. So adieu mon petit amis, time to figure this stuff out.