In the days past, I have feared the days to come of having to really live a cancer lifestyle. I did not want to bring the outside of cancer into my home. I liked keeping it neatly tucked away at my Monday chemo jail sessions for only me and my visitors to observe. I actually see chemo jail as my safe place, a route to healing, time to rest alone, time to be ill without tears of those around me watching. I need it to stay there, so my weakness this past Monday had me denied chemo jail, but checked into hospital.
The mouth sores are so unbearable that it is difficult to even drink water or to talk as my teeth hit the sides of my tongue where the sores lay tortuous, where side effects of drugs can lay down the ground work for defeat. My cure cannot be my defeat, no, yet it is, it is an ironic plot twist. Really, mouth sores? This is what will create doubt in a mind willing to forgive this painful life I must continue to lead, in a mind that can withstand the great depths of misery in hopes that longevity will lead the way. Doubt and fear are ugly demons to carry on such a battlefield. I am supposed to walk through the fight with peace, my healer stresses this but at these times it is difficult to hold back. I want to take an ice pick to my cancer, not meditate on gratitude today, because now my cancer has to enter the home. My protected sanctuary will be violated by ‘in home infusions’. I need nutrients to fight and have none. Nothing can pass through the mouth, nothing. I am silenced.
So, here I write and here I sit, sequestered with one white cell holding onto me as if we are alone caught in a storm, blown by the waves of this toxic disease. I shall build back my blood and bones, claw through the terrain and find my body again. I have so much to look forward to, so many new adventures on the horizon with a little boy and a beautiful family, all extending their reach to pull me up from the waves. Phew. Another pep talk. Another fight song of future plans and promises. I can’t wait to meet our friends baby, see an old childhood friend again, go to Italy, back to NY, decorate for Christmas with ease, revel in a beautiful Thanksgiving tradition….to name but a few desires. A new mantra must be made as clearly I can’t handle the Kool Aid. We WILL find a drug to fight this and fast, we will….my glorious doc must have more up his sleeve than old school Kool Aid. Right?
Today, low white counts, hellfire mouth sores and going on one week in this hospital jail. By Monday, I am Kung Fu-ing my way out of this prison…and hopefully I won’t have to take this show on the road into the homestead. I am certainly not ready for that kind of cancer invasion.
Photo by Cheri Pearl Photography. Cheri’s Blog