Weeble

I have written this post now about a 400 times in my head this past week and mainly at about 3 or 4 am as I lie with sleep eluding me. My in-my-head version has been at times sheer ‘brilliance’ and more often probably quite manic as I deliver to myself version after version…
Please consider this post ‘personal’ in nature, speaking more to my emotions than to the cadence of appointments, etc. so if unappealing, please, similar to a train wreck – look away, move on to my next entry when its time comes…
Firstly, just in keeping with timeframes, my chemo #4 was completed on Thursday and now on to the biggie on the 23rd – the 12 hour infusion day with baldness to follow 14-16 days later. So far my hair has held up well – the 1st 4 chemo’s really were no match for the old forest growth on my head!
Back to the topic at hand, this week I Weebled. Big Time. And well over, lilting to the left I’d say… I hope you are familiar with the Fisher Price toy – it is what I am referring to here on a variety of levels. Superficially, I am now the non-plastic version of a Weeble-Wobble, these 5 weeks and most especially Dex steroids have taken their toll and through the swelling, puffing and manic compulsive eating that these steroids plummet your psyche into I am remarkably similar to the old school toy. I am hoping this look is somewhat endearing to more than the playschool crowd, doubtful.
Really, more importantly, I became an emotional weeble (on sale! Just in time for Easter!). It started through chemo #3 with the steroids building in my system. Just a few days after that chemo when I usually sleep-sleep-sleep, it was gone. Replaced with this small flashlight like feeling behind my eyelids – a sort of 2nd pulse that wouldn’t go away and left sleep by the wayside – even when I am sleeping I still feel ½ awake -a stream of consciousness still beating through my head. By Mon/Tues, I felt as though I was measuring sleep in moments rather than hours and on Wednesday I did not sleep at all, day or night, going into my chemo, the end of my oral steroids but a full bag of IV steroids on that Thursday. -Many, many hours to think. So, so tired but the pulse did not abate. My Doc offered sleeping pills on the Thursday but I declined for some manic reason opting irrationally to not put even more chemicals into me (seriously, dumb) and to let the ‘roids’ wear off naturally. Emotionally, I fell to a very low place.
The point of this posting – I tipped, Wobbled, and allowed myself to indulge a lot of feelings that I had be holding at arms length – and here is what I learned:
(1) It is OK to let yourself out of the box. I am proud that so many people think I have a great attitude about all this, or that I am brave (I am not), etc. This week I got scared. Scared of what I was going through, still to go through, and some long weeks ahead. I also got angry – at this cancer, at myself for not being in a better state to handle it, at my lost time and altered future plans and at some people around me for not crawling into my head and understanding all this. Lastly, I got lonely and sad – I insolated and therefore isolated myself from the people I am closest too and feeling wise that is a very lonely place. By wanting to be ‘tough’, I had weakened my own foundation but as I state on my profile, ‘I have my moments’ – I will allow myself those more often, they are cleansing.
(2) It is OK to mourn. No, I am not dying, I will survive this without a shadow of a doubt but I can mourn what could have been. Pete and I were soooo planning a far better path than what cancer has set this year on and as much as I have banked away some hope for that future my life has been altered and a new path set. Boo-hoo. Lots of peoples lives change on a dime and I am no different I do get that but beforehand I tried to portray an ‘oh well, we adapt’ attitude. That is true but everyone should be allowed to say, ‘I’m disappointed it didn’t all work out’
(3) The great mystery solved! – WHY Weebles Wobble but don’t fall down! The answer is of course, like the toy, elementary; a strong rounded base. Tsk-tsk! I am not just speaking literally of my bottom! I speak of my most true, solid foundation; my family, my friends, my ‘structural support’.

With gratitude and a more even keel,
Carey