Grieving

Yesterday, my birthday, I had three different appointments at Hopkins. Wound care, echocardiagram, and occupational therapy.

Then there are days like today when I am parked on the couch, surfing the web, maybe watching a video or reading a book. Or thinking.

I think we all have images of ourselves that are enhanced by how others see us. and I, for one, feel a need to live up to this image. "You're so strong" "You are amazing."

And I AM strong. And I AM amazing. But Im also overwhelmed. And at times very sad.

The rehab team at Hopkins assigned me a therapist-- how great is that! We do zoom calls every other week.

We had a call on Monday and I recounted an incident to her, and described it as a "pity party." After my description of what happened, my therapist had what was really a fairly obvious insight. I wasn't having a pity party; I was grieving. And considering what I have been through, it's not just expected-- it's encouraged. And she encouraged me to find a friend with whom I can be vulnerable, to let down the armor and grieve.

I have lost a lot. I can't do many things I took for granted three months ago. Life, certainly for the near future, will continue to be different. My world is smaller.

Last night we went out to dinner with friends, and once again, I had the chance to feel normal. We ate great food, drank really good wine, laughed and talked. and I was sitting at a table and looked just like everyone else.

But I'm not normal, or at least my life isn't. And at times it makes me very sad. Yes, I remind myself that it will change. In a couple of months I will be able to bear weight on my arms. A prosthesis will follow that.

Jerry and I are afraid of the unknown. Neither of us expected a pulmonary embolism. And since neither of us have much skill at reading tea leaves, we really don't know what to expect. And it's scary.

But I can't live like that. Sure, I think, will I have an ovarian cancer recurrence? But I don't dwell on it. Neither do I dwell on what I have lost and may never fully regain.

But I am giving myself permission to think about my life, and while there is much to rejoice, I can also give myself permission to grieve.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Can’t Catch a Break

except for the one in my femur. After I fell a couple weeks ago I got in touch with my primary care physician's office and went in for x-rays. Nothing terrible showed up so we prepared to go to Tbilisi with my wheelchair, figuring after a couple of days I wouldn't need it. Fortunately our Tbilisi apartment had a lift and doorways wide enough for my wheelchair, so I knew I would be okay until I could use my prosthesis again. But as each day went by my leg got no better, so we made the tough decision to go home early, leaving the same day as our traveling companions. Traveling on a commercial flight using a wheelchair was a nightmare, but that's a story for another time. The day after we got back I saw my rehab doctor, Dr. Gonzalez, and she ordered another set of x-rays, and this time the news was not so good. The images showed a non-displaced hairline fracture at the top of my femur. When I spoke to Dr. Gonzalez, she told me she had spoken to one of the orthopedic sur...
Read more

All Fall Down. Again

My physical therapist warned me: the more I walk the more I'm going to fall so I'd better get used to it. But this last one was a doozy. We had come home from a lovely Rosh Hashanah dinner at my cousins' and went upstairs. I remembered I had left my phone downstairs and wanted to see my daily step count, so I headed back down to get it. I sat down on the couch to look at it, got up, and after perhaps one step my prosthetic foot decided not to move, and down I went. It was a similar fall to the one I took in Mexico City, only more so. The pain and anguish had me howling. Since I still had my phone I called Jerry to help me up. Only I couldn't get up. Just like in Mexico City. Jerry went to the garage and once again, got my wheelchair. He removed my prosthesis and helped me into the chair. He got me upstairs and helped me undress and get into bed. I downed a megadose of Ibuprofen and attempted to get comfortable. Ha! I suppose comfort is relative. I did get som...
Read more

Cha Cha Cha

This week, six years ago, I had my last chemo. It seems like a lifetime ago. My check-ups have gone from every month, to every three months, and now to every six months. A big Woo Hoo. Also, just about this week two years ago was when I got hit by a bus in London. I went from not being able to walk or use my arms to where I am now-- walking with a cane and even driving a car. I'm back volunteering at the shelter and taking Pilates. A couple of weeks ago I starting getting pretty bad heartburn, which I had six years ago. It led me to a gastroenterologist who ultimately diagnosed my ovarian cancer. So when it returned, I made an appointment with a gynecological oncologist who scheduled a CT scan. The good news was there was no ovarian cancer recurrence. The not so good news, or should I say the up in the air news, was that the CT scan showed a mass in my bladder. A small mass-- only about a half inch-- but a mass nonetheless. Today I saw a urologicsl oncologist. I was hoping he ...
Read more