I finally feel that I am re-surfacing from my last chemotherapy treatment. One more down, three to go. I need to remember that on that day in the cycle where I feel like I am falling apart, crying, hurting everywhere, and that I can't possibly do it- I am doing it... and tomorrow will be better.
I have many things to be thankful for this last week. For all of those who took care of my children, made me yummy food, called to check in, sat at my bedside to sage my soul- Thank you. No matter how horrible everything may feel, I only need to sit and close my eyes to understand how incredibly blessed I am. I hope that I can remember this long after the cancer is gone.
I also realized that I have reached another milestone in my treatment. I have woken up over the last week feeling as if I was on fire. My bald head moving from intense heat to chill from air meeting sweat. The women in my online support group have been exchanging tips - keeping washcloths and thermoses of ice water by the bedside, breathing through the flash without movement (moving seems to only intensify the heat), taking a sleep medication to just keep from noticing. Today an older woman reminded me that the reason she doesn't have the hot flashes is because she is post-menopausal. My body is transitioning away from that of a young woman. And for some reason, my heart is breaking. I don't want this - but this is the only option if I am to survive. I hate this. Last week, I realized that I wanted a third child that I could name Beckett. Okay, maybe that would have never happened- cancer or not. But it irritates me that I have no choice.
I also understand that I am lucky. I have been blessed with two amazing young children - a girl and a boy. So many people on this same journey are also having to worry about the possibility that they may never have children. They are bogged down in researching egg freezing and the possibility of not taking the medicines that their doctor's are requiring. My heart breaks for them too. So, as I lay in bed after a particularly awful hot flash, I decided to draw another self-portrait. I guess I wanted to capture me before I change completely. I also want to find a ritual to not only say goodbye- but to also say thank you. Thank you to this feminine body that carried and grew my two children, that nursed them and comforted them, that changed as my hormones surged and fell. I will close my eyes and get ready for all of the amazing things you still have in store for me.
I have many things to be thankful for this last week. For all of those who took care of my children, made me yummy food, called to check in, sat at my bedside to sage my soul- Thank you. No matter how horrible everything may feel, I only need to sit and close my eyes to understand how incredibly blessed I am. I hope that I can remember this long after the cancer is gone.
I also realized that I have reached another milestone in my treatment. I have woken up over the last week feeling as if I was on fire. My bald head moving from intense heat to chill from air meeting sweat. The women in my online support group have been exchanging tips - keeping washcloths and thermoses of ice water by the bedside, breathing through the flash without movement (moving seems to only intensify the heat), taking a sleep medication to just keep from noticing. Today an older woman reminded me that the reason she doesn't have the hot flashes is because she is post-menopausal. My body is transitioning away from that of a young woman. And for some reason, my heart is breaking. I don't want this - but this is the only option if I am to survive. I hate this. Last week, I realized that I wanted a third child that I could name Beckett. Okay, maybe that would have never happened- cancer or not. But it irritates me that I have no choice.
I also understand that I am lucky. I have been blessed with two amazing young children - a girl and a boy. So many people on this same journey are also having to worry about the possibility that they may never have children. They are bogged down in researching egg freezing and the possibility of not taking the medicines that their doctor's are requiring. My heart breaks for them too. So, as I lay in bed after a particularly awful hot flash, I decided to draw another self-portrait. I guess I wanted to capture me before I change completely. I also want to find a ritual to not only say goodbye- but to also say thank you. Thank you to this feminine body that carried and grew my two children, that nursed them and comforted them, that changed as my hormones surged and fell. I will close my eyes and get ready for all of the amazing things you still have in store for me.
I love your drawings and love that you are keeping this journal. I believe it's important - writing has always saved me. Only wish I could draw like you! And I know how you feel about the transition from child-bearing but I can only say that there is a certain fierce sense of being that steps in when all is done. I've been through it completely now. It started way too early for me... at 39 and ended around 46. I was so sad. I'm still sad actually. I so wanted to have another baby or two. But during those years, I was single, raising a little girl and focused on survival. I surrender to the realities and trust there is a reason. That in itself is an act of Faith. Some say it's cowardice. I say it's much more brave to choose to believe... that there is a reason for everything thing - good, bad, indifferent - when all evidence seems to point to chaos, anarchy and randomness. I don't buy into the latter. I believe. And I have you in my thoughts and prayers mama. xox Christine
ReplyDeleteThanks Christine:-) I know it will all be okay. Thanks for sharing your story and history. It helps knowing how others go through these transitions, persevere, and thrive! much love!
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