When Terrible Found Me, I Smiled… with Teeth

Dark humor “strengthens your immune system, relieves pain, eases depression” and makes all those ridiculously annoying people, who seem to walk around with a giant stick up their rears, rather uncomfortable… a detail I find freaking hilarious. ~ from The Healing Power of Humor [and moi]

 

If we are friends on Instagram, then you have already glimpsed this. But since I promised I would write a bit more about it, here it goes again, with an extra detail (or 3): I am slightly fascinated by how the chemo cocktail affects the body, and by how quickly the effects make themselves known.

Examples:
– The anti-nausea meds that accompany the bulk of the healing poison grip one’s nether regions (for about a second). The feeling is not exactly painful (not even all that unpleasant *cough*), but it is always surprising, regardless of how many times the quirky meds have previously clenched one’s behind without asking for consent or offering a refreshing beverage.

– Then… comes the high. Mostly from the anti-allergy stuff (lots of anti-stuff during chemo[ning]). Many people (perhaps, even most) get sleepy. Me? No, I get giggly, which makes me laugh at the slightest provocation, and quite often without being provoked at all. And since my nurses are a wonderful riot (and I insist on watching all the funny videos friends post on social media while I am getting my chemo infusions), well… the result is a lot of cackling. I enjoy every minute of it, even the weird looks I get.

– There is wild twitchiness and pains, which aren’t as bad as they sound. Really. Some muscle spasming—around my left eye, in the left side of my back… These are not the torturous neuropathic events (which are nasty). I’m referring to spasms that feel almost like tickles. They go away after I stretch. But… can you imagine the number of funny faces you must make to stretch your twitchy facial beauty? Many. And when you do it in front of the mirror, the doing can get quite hysterical, particularly if you are still riding the chemo high… And yes, by “you” I almost always mean “me”.

Soon, I’ll share a bit about the sexy side effects. Let’s just say that phrases like “Port! Port!” might’ve become safe words. See? Never a dull moment, especially with a sexy Piano Man who dances with me no matter the tune.

 

post-chemo scowling
selfies are quite diverting
when my eyelids hurt

 

When terrible found me,
I smiled… with Teeth.

 

See? with Teeth.

 

What about you, my Wicked Luvs, how do you deal with terrible, when it comes knocking, knocking, knocking… on your door?

 

Obsessive-Compulsive Behavior (camouflaged as discipline) Can Be a Superpower

I am doing fantastically well.

I started with that statement because more than a handful of you has messaged me to let me know you are concerned about my virtual-MIA-ness. Thank you for that, it means a lot to me. My incision is healing beautifully… I’m regaining mobility a lot faster than expected… And although we aren’t yet sure what will happen next (the pathology isn’t back), I feel quite ready (even eager) for what’s to come.

I spend most of my day reading about chemo, radiation, hormones, supplemental therapies, nutrition, exercise… and anything I can think of that might ready me for the conversations I will have with the breast and radiation oncologists once the lab results are back. Writing, researching, exercising several times a day, sleeping for healing, groping my Piano Man for healing, 😀 and spending a ridiculous amount of time staring at my new sexy in the mirror takes a lot of my day and night.

So, please don’t worry, my Wicked Luvs. I am not in pain (or in any more pain than I have been in the last decade. Just busy, busy, busy… and sort of obsessed (in the best of ways) with the new bits of me. Some might find this attitude unhealthy, feel that I’m allowing myself to be consumed by the effects of the disease. But… in my case, at least, they would be wrong. When it comes to new trials, I’m disciplined to the point of obsession—I use all the energy and time I can afford in eliminating the immediate threat, analyzing anything I’ve gained (or lost) in the battle… then I play (blog, Instagram, Facebook) and move on to the next fight.

That is how I work. I assess the enemy, acknowledge (and delight in) my assets, then I sink my teeth into anything fighting against me… until one of us cries for mercy, runs, or agrees to go into a long, long, long… period of remission.

I suspect my blogging will become more predictable in a week or three. Until then, remember: I’m not suffering at the bottom of some dark lagoon. Nope. I’m exploring the lagoon’s revealing darkness… while wondering how much yummier the cool water will feel on my skin… after chemo takes all my hair… and my boob and I get to swim naked and grinning (and roaring battle-cry-bubbles) like the fluidly-sexy-beast I know myself to be.

 

P.S. I will lurk around your cyber-homes (and reply to your words here, Instagram, Facebook…) sometime tonight. Be good. Be wicked. Be wicked good, my Luvs.