The Ironic Cruelty of Cancer

Most everyone has been touched by cancer in one way or another. They have had it themselves, watched a loved one endure it, or lost a friend or relative.  Thanks to the very effective PR campaign, we are all well aware of the meaning of pink ribbons, but there are, unfortunately, a multitude of ribbons for all the different cancers.  I'm sure other cancer patients have their own views, but I feel like this round of cancer was dished up with a side of cruel irony.

When I finished my radiation in 2008, Karissa was just starting speech therapy.  It was convenient as I was learning some of the same sounds she was learning.  While my neck was never really quite right, and it was one hell of a diet plan, I am thankful for the intervening five years of relative health.  I got Karissa through the bulk of her speech challenges (with the help of several wonderful SLPs), she learned to read and write which is especially helpful now, and Karina got through high school.  But I never thought about what if it came back.

I have said before, I really thought I had things figured out finally.  I had my life laid out mostly as I wanted it and I was ready to enjoy my plans.  Nope.

I do not mean to this to sound as a criticism of breast cancer, or to make it sound less.  I have family and dear friends that have and/or are fighting the fight and I know it is no walk in the park and, yes, it can kill you.  If I had been given a choice, though, I would given up my breasts and kept my tongue.  Even my new, improved reduced breasts.  Both of them.  But I did not get to pick.

I have been working as a substitute since Karissa was in kindergarten.  I pretty much worked a day here and a day there, but enough.  I would have been happy to work more in the right situation. I always felt guilty about taking a job from someone who depended on the income, though. I turned down some work at the beginning of the school year as I was in too much pain.  Now there is more work than there are subs.  I am getting calls nearly everyday directly from teachers, especially music teachers, desperate for a sub.  Today, along with every other sub in 4j, I got a call from the Medford School District looking for subs to cross the picket line when their teachers go on strike next week.  I wouldn't cross the picket line for any price, but some will and that will mean even more jobs here going unfilled.  Karissa's dear teacher from last year is pregnant.  I subbed for her a lot last year and would have loved to finish the year for her, maybe leading to something more permanent in the future as people go to know me.  Alas, not that is not to be.  Right situation. No tongue.

I was just finding my place in Stand for Children.  I was learning to walk the precincts, do the phone calls, speak with passion to my legislators.  The Dynavox doesn't do passion.  Yes, there is still a role for me, no doubt, but it will be different.  Would I have bothered to push myself out of my comfort zone to try those things if I knew I wouldn't be able to do them again?

One of the reasons I went to the SAI convention in Atlanta was the sing-a-long.  That may sound silly to you, but if you've ever sang with that many people (most of whom sing very, very well) it is an experience like no other.  There was some mix up and the sing did not end up happening when it was supposed to.  I was disappointed, but not as disappointed as I am about it now.

I've been after myself to get more exercise, for many reasons.  The most important is that without exercise, my heart will fail sooner.  I am not anxious for another surgery.  I am certainly not up for another one anytime soon.  Exercise will help the swelling and lymph drainage and stress relief and rebuild my stamina.  None of that matters when I am too tired to stand, or my neck is too sore or too unstable to even walk.  Rest, feel better, is great advice except when it isn't.

I bowed out of the Stand conference today.  After Thursday nights breathing drama and basically feeling dragged out all day Friday, I couldn't face a whole day away.  I also didn't know what last night would bring. Fortunately only one short bout of the breathing issue and mostly a good night of sleep.  However, I was still so tired today.  We did two flights of stairs at ballet today and I was gasping for air.  Sad. Pathetic. Scary. Hopefully it is because my breathing isn't quite up to snuff yet and not that my heart is already pumping oxygenated blood that poorly.

Wednesday I felt as close to normal as I have since well before my surgery.  Now I am back to feeling exhausted and frustrated again.  Two steps forward, one step back.  Anything is possible. Insert your rah-rah cliche of choice here.  Tomorrow will be another day.  Here's hoping it is a better day.

Until tomorrow:)