Something is happening to my brain and my being. I am slowing, yet I can’t seem to stop. Sleep comes in 4 hour windows. I am anxious and afraid. I am softening. I cried with someone I barely know today. I let in a stranger. She came at me from the side so gently and said, “Are you ok”. Sort of taken aback, I replied, “Yeah, I’m alright.” When she said she had gone through this too, 16 years earlier and had two young kids at the time, I knew she knew. The head scarf is a dead giveaway. Half the ladies at the JoAnne’s fabric shop looked at me curiously. The other half looked away like I was a too young mirror of what they never want to think possible. I get it.
This lady though, she just SAW me and comforted me in a way strangers can rarely do. There was a brief communion of souls in the yarn aisle and then we parted.
On Monday the bell rings, ding! and I am face to face with AC chemo round #4. The last and final round before the supposedly easier Taxol regimen begins. Rejoice right? It’s the last one…
I check out in my mind when I think of going back there. Hmm, Hmmm, Hmmmmm my mind screams. I am lying on my back on a soft plaid flannel blanket, spongey grass underneath, looking at the most beautiful blue sky, warm breeze fluttering my shirt. Oh boy…………
It’s not that sitting there is so bad. There is the most lovely and kind male nurse that really makes you feel comfortable. Throw in a back rub and a mud mask and it might as well be spa day. It’s not that.
Like I said, something is happening to me. It doesn’t feel good to be in my skin and I can’t escape it. There is no reference point, no status quo for me to stop and rest… like the inhale keeps, keeps, keeps, and then I have no idea where to land. And when I’m too tired to pursue my assorted projects of distraction, I stop and I feel.