I was getting ready to go out the other night, I looked in the mirror, checking to see if everything was “in place” — best foot forward. I grabbed the tweezers and began plucking away. The yelps ensued, “TRAITOR, TRAITOR, TRAITOR!” they accused.
I stopped, shamefully; reminded that WE (the brows and I) have a pep talk, joined by the eyelashes every morning, “YOU HANG IN THERE! We’re in this TOGETHER!”. I felt like I was failing them. I concede. Yes, any place on the face is the “right” place, I guess; live where you please.
The air hurts my skin, the blanket swallows me whole. There is no in between, one second I am freezing, the next it’s as if Satan has grabbed hold of my bones and is blowing fire from top to toe. Hot flashes are officially UNDER ADVOCATED for, it is HELL ON EARTH.
Nothing seems to be JUST right, there is a constant fluctuation. The true test of stability….can you ride the tide?
Today, I head into my third treatment. The wave of panic promptly started last night, and was expelled by 10:30 this morning. Not bad my friend, not bad…every time learning.
I can smell them coming when order grabs the reins of my domain. Aligning, touching repeatedly; needing everything to FIND ITS PLACE. Then the mania. One hundred and sixty miles a minute, the winds whirl. Within the mania, the blackness, blank space; the vast nothingness in my brain. Then the exhaustion from the storm, my eyes can not focus, disconnection from the body. Wanting to take leave.
I went to get my port accessed, and realize I forgot the numbing cream. One of those hints they HINT TO in all the blogs, but you don’t understand the validity until it’s your reality! The sheer penetration of needle to skin sends shudders through my body and tears emerge. The nurse try to comfort. And I try to explain, it’s not the pain. These dew drops are the icing on the cake, they just need to escape.
The cherry? The NOTEBOOK, or lack thereof. I travel with baggage, to be exact — three totes, at least. Within those totes are smaller bags to compartmentalize it all. My world, my thoughts, my creation.
Somewhere resides the list below:
an old journal (to be transcribed)
a new journal
a medical journal
a food/medicine journal
a daily calendar
an additional quick look monthly calendar
a medical notebook (seperate from medical journal)
a business notebook (also separate from business journal -- that is the flip side of medical journal)
Each holds different materials and ideas. Also, there are different pens to write in different journals, but no need to bother you with my TOTAL neurosis.
On this day GOD FORBID the medical journal has escaped. LITERALLY the ONLY DAY that he is needed, when he gets his moment to shine. That jerk called in sick to the doctors’ appointment. Oh what a luxury, the balls on THAT guy…
That was it. The moment of sheer panic. The small scale of the bigger theme at hand. I lost a piece of me in the structure that I felt held all in place. Keeping order. The escapee mocking my failure to CONTROL.
Not an easy task, my heart peels back as I extract a sheet of loose leaf paper from a binder. I grit my teeth as I find the pen to do the deed. I coach myself through the steps that will come next. You will go to the appointment, you will meet with Dr. P, you will write your questions on this sheet, you will write the answers below. Then you will put it directly in the Waiting File (an actual file that holds the papers waiting to be worked on, and receive a gold star when complete) then, you will transfer it to its home.
Whew life becomes bearable again. There is a solution. There is a form. There is a way. Now I can navigate. I can breathe.
I feel the exhaustion in my body, the energy it takes to call myself back to act. To rationalize. I place both feet on the ground and feel my rib cage expand. I place my hands on my thighs and feel the breath puddle into my pelvic bowl. Gently filling my belly, massaging my sacrum and organs inside.
I close my eyes and look a dentro, where I find the little fear child. Actually, I catch her by the hem of her dress as scurries away. My darling, wait! I need you here. Come sit, and watch. I will hold your hand. We will do this together and then you will understand. There is nothing to be afraid of, we can do scary things….but we don’t have to be scared.
I have spent years on the search for what it means to be FEMALE, for what it means to THRIVE, for what it means to be ALIVE. This path has lead me all over the world, drawn to women and their children, to communities, to SPIRIT, and ultimately BACK to MYSELF. Here I will share my most recent adventure, navigating a diagnosis of triple positive BREAST CANCER and each step of the way I figure out how to be a little more ME. I am Catherine-Ayer Gresham a 30 year old woman