The Breast of Times

Getting chemo isn’t that bad y’all. It’s hard knowing how it is going to me feel- but actually getting the “Love potion” in my port and in my body is quite fine.  The fatigue and naseua is hitting me faster than it did on round 1.

If you were a fly on the wall in our kitchen tonight it would’ve looked like a happy family, covered in spaghetti, having a dance party- Luna dropping her butt like it’s hot and Oti twisting his arms and roaring like a dinosaur. And we are that happy family that we look like. The strange thing is I’ve never been happier and more satisfied with my life. Does that make this the best time to battle cancer or the worst time? Before having kids I wasn’t terrified of my own death. Now it’s not an option. Not to say I haven’t had conversations about our will, with my husband about finding another love of his life, with my sister about her help raising the kids. Nobody wants to go there, and I get that, but it is certainly a wake up call.

My attitude might change as the various systems in my body get wiped out. I’m sure I will be a major party pooper when I’m bald and boobless.

It’s been 2 months of exploration, diagnosis and treatment. Sure I’ve had a few sad moments, but I’m not sad, or angry, or terrified. I have spent most of my life being sad or angry, for the injustice in the world, for the suffering of so many, for the beauty, for the earth, sad when I feel ineffective, angry at missed opportunities to help others and on and on. I used to get furious at my mom for anything, especially if she gave me gifts- I ran away on Christmas day as a senior in high school when she gave me a laptop (it’s so unfair! some people don’t even have enough food to eat on christmas). My sister could give me a sideways glance, and I would flip out.

A family friend was dropping off matzo ball soup and was saying how tough I was as a kid. I would like to apologize to anyone that was on the other side of my wrath. I do feel like I was always gearing up for a big fight. I thought it would be a fight for humanity. Turns out I was gearing up for this fight for my life. Having stage 3 means I have to take this seriously because it’s large, it’s growing, it’s not messing around. I’m ready- my dukes are up, I’m fighting this from all angles. Some days I even fight this by taking a nap. I’m gonna nap the shit out of this cancer.

I’m fighting cancer- but I’m not fighting the universe about why this happened, I’m not fighting my doctors- i just do what they tell me, I’m not fighting my husband when he has both kids and puts one in front of the tv with cornbread for breakfast. I want to be radically present for the good times. I can’t spend all day as a mom or at my job- but when i’m up and present i want to be fully present- to the extent that my chemo brain will allow. I want to use my good hours doing things that bring me deep joy.

I’ve got a lot of tools and I’m using them all. This journal is a tool for me.There are so many people helping us and I am saying yes to all of it.

as a side note- it is crazy that there is a natural disaster and a great human need in baton rouge- i’m certified in disaster mental health and spent a year coordinating house gutting for ACORN after katrina. the non-cancer me would be fully activated to help with that fight. It’s hard to sit this one out- I really wish I was able to help.

ps- a few hairs just popped out of my head and landed on the keyboard. This new dose of love potion must be working!

pps- wigs y’all