Next to Normal
There are days when I don't think about Ovarian Cancer and recurrence. As much. But I have a scan in two days and it is pretty much front and center in my brain. I have every reason to believe I will be fine. My most recent CA 125 was 8, and any swelling in my belly is from enjoying food and wine way too much. But just like every other woman who has been in my situation, there is that ever-present fear that microscopic cancer cells somehow evaded the surgery and numerous chemo blasts and they will show up on this scan. So between now until Thursday when I see my oncologist, I will lose some sleep, have hideous fantasies and try to live life the best I can.
This past week I did what I could to keep this train moving forward. Though it was only once, I went to the gym. I walked about a mile and a half on the treadmill at a decent pace, at least for me. I tried the bike but it hurt my feet too much. I might give it another go with bike shoes. I also did a little work on my quads and upper body on some of the silly machines. I was going to wait until I got some physical therapy this week, to see if there were recommended exercises, but I figured that was just an excuse to procrastinate.
I also got another haircut this week. The sides are outpacing the top, so while Tiffany left much of my hair alone, she did a lovely job of cleaning up the sides and the back. It actually looks like real person hair. Though it still feels like eider down. Yeah, I still play with it a lot.
My stomach has been acting pretty wacky these last few days, and that, at least for now, may be the new normal. Maybe it's a side effect of the immunotherapy; maybe it is something I ate, though it's lasting quite a while and it's not the first time. The roller coaster of laxatives and Immodium.
And the end of the day still finds me dragging myself up the stairs. I still get tired and I know it's part of who I am now. I think I've come pretty close to accepting it and I remind myself at least I am climbing those steps and not taking the elevator.
And this week brought friends. Dinner on Tuesday with a group of us at Zaatar, our wonderful neighborhood middle eastern restaurant. Introducing friends from two different worlds and everyone got along beautifully. And last night dinner with two friends who are nothing short of wonderful. They are smart, insightful and so great to hang around with. They have some travel coming up and it sparked my excitement for planning travel for Jerry and me.
And for the first time in a while, we did talk about the cancer; most of my friends seem to go to great lengths to avoid the topic. And I get that. But it might sound weird, but there is healing through talking about it. Even the less optimistic parts. It keeps me grounded and looking forward. That might not make much sense, yet through writing and talking about it, I am reminded that I am strong, in good shape and whatever happens, I will do the best job I can of dealing with it and surviving, in whatever form that takes.
This past week I did what I could to keep this train moving forward. Though it was only once, I went to the gym. I walked about a mile and a half on the treadmill at a decent pace, at least for me. I tried the bike but it hurt my feet too much. I might give it another go with bike shoes. I also did a little work on my quads and upper body on some of the silly machines. I was going to wait until I got some physical therapy this week, to see if there were recommended exercises, but I figured that was just an excuse to procrastinate.
I also got another haircut this week. The sides are outpacing the top, so while Tiffany left much of my hair alone, she did a lovely job of cleaning up the sides and the back. It actually looks like real person hair. Though it still feels like eider down. Yeah, I still play with it a lot.
My stomach has been acting pretty wacky these last few days, and that, at least for now, may be the new normal. Maybe it's a side effect of the immunotherapy; maybe it is something I ate, though it's lasting quite a while and it's not the first time. The roller coaster of laxatives and Immodium.
And the end of the day still finds me dragging myself up the stairs. I still get tired and I know it's part of who I am now. I think I've come pretty close to accepting it and I remind myself at least I am climbing those steps and not taking the elevator.
And this week brought friends. Dinner on Tuesday with a group of us at Zaatar, our wonderful neighborhood middle eastern restaurant. Introducing friends from two different worlds and everyone got along beautifully. And last night dinner with two friends who are nothing short of wonderful. They are smart, insightful and so great to hang around with. They have some travel coming up and it sparked my excitement for planning travel for Jerry and me.
And for the first time in a while, we did talk about the cancer; most of my friends seem to go to great lengths to avoid the topic. And I get that. But it might sound weird, but there is healing through talking about it. Even the less optimistic parts. It keeps me grounded and looking forward. That might not make much sense, yet through writing and talking about it, I am reminded that I am strong, in good shape and whatever happens, I will do the best job I can of dealing with it and surviving, in whatever form that takes.
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