Which Kiara did you meet?

We had a new friend at the house on Saturday.  She was admiring the pictures in the hallway, all of which pre-date our move to Eugene.  She could not believe some of them were me.  Well, a lot has happened since then.

We moved here in the fall of 2006.  Kelly went back to Vegas to work and I flew solo for a couple months, getting Karina in school and unpacking. When my Oregon Driver's License photo was taken, I was somewhere along my yearly migration between the weight I swore I'd never get up to and twenty pounds heavier than that. I still had my 'impressive' bustline that prevented me from hiding behind a Giant Sequoia.  I felt strong and ready to take on our new adventure.

I signed Karissa and I up for Mommy and me swim lessons so we could meet some friends, as we knew no one.  As prejudiced as it seems, I passed over the mommies wearing bikinis and those heavily tattoed and pieced.  That mom in the wet suit, she was more my speed.  I pursued her friendship, hopefully not too stalker-ish, and was rewarded with not only a wonderful friend, but two great friends for Karissa.

We continued to collect friends at the bus stop, the synagogue, and Kelly's work.  We had visitors make the pilgrimage from Las Vegas.  Everything seemed to be falling into place nicely.

In the spring, the new cardiologist informed me that my heart valve had about six months left in it.  She was right, almost to the day.  I spent our first glorious summer in heart failure.  Right side heart failure is not the same as left side heart failure, and it was largely tolerable as long as I didn't do too much and get too winded. In the fall, they repaired my heart valve and I felt better than I had in years.  Through the dedicated help of the wonderful people at cardiac rehab, I was able to get below the weight I swore I'd never get up to, and build some stamina.  We danced the night away at Mitch's wedding.

In January, we got the news that my ring in my tricuspid valve had shifted and the valve was again leaking heavily.  It would buy me time, maybe five years, maybe ten, until I would likely need a valve replacement. Due to this turn of events, I was able to remain at Cardiac Rehab for several more months.

Also in January, Kelly's mom fell and broke her wrist, re-injuring her shoulder in the process.  Damn ice. My dad was rushed to the hospital by ambulance and was not expected to make it. Damn pneumonia and undiagnosed sleep apnea.  But make it he did.  He came home, at last, at Easter.

Things were looking up.  Falling into place.  If only my damn mouth would quit hurting.  I had had three biopsies, so I wasn't worried about this one.  I should have been.

One day malignant biopsy, the next day meeting with the surgeon.  I hadn't thought too much about it, but when he said, "We do this surgery and you'll be around to see your grandchildren" I was shaken.  It had never occurred to me that I would not.

Surgery and radiation, with a Bat Mitzvah right in the middle.  I had my hair cut short. I lost at least 60 pounds, largely by not eating anything due to the pain.  I got down to roughly what I weighed in the sixth grade.  Too bad I got to keep those breasts.  One massage therapist remarked, "Intelligent design? Have they met you?"  Suffice it to say I looked like a stick figure in a Playboy Magazine comic strip.

Still I was able to play the clarinet at Homecoming.  In fact, less tongue was more manageable and the tight jaws meant I could play endlessly without ache.  I had to relearn how to say some letters and how to eat only using the left side of my tongue.  I was slow, but things were looking up. Again.

Through the diligent work of my physical therapist and my oncologist I was finally able to get a reduction. For those of you who did not know me then, you probably won't understand what a radical change this was for me.  For the first time since elementary school, my breasts were not the first thing that drew people's attention when I entered a room.  So radical was the change that I finally had to tell some people at my high school reunion as they just couldn't place me.  They had never seen me from the neck up.

Through a completely haphazard exercise regimen and not monitoring my calorie intake at all, I was able to regain about thirty pounds fairly effortlessly.  Amazing.  However, after watching the weight plummet during radiation, even my doctors were loathe to say anything about my weight, even when I brought it up.  And it did stay steady.

I continued to have struggles with the scar tissue in my neck.  It would randomly decide to remodel itself from time to time and it would almost seem like starting over as the therapists would try again to get everything in its proper place.

I worked out at Cardiac Rehab for awhile.  It was great.  There is state of the art equipment, trained people to help you out, they put a heart monitor on you, and I was the superstar of the gym for the first time in my life.  They would come and yell at me, nicely, when my heart rate hit 170. Again.  But it was over an hour round trip. The hours weren't that convenient.  The showers were really cold. It cost money (a lot less than a regular gym). So I quit going.

Karina's senior year was very stressful for everyone, for a multitude of reasons.  My methods of dealing with stress:  keeping everything bottled up until I explode, or fretting to myself to craziness. Neither of these are particularly effective.  When my tongue started to hurt, I even said to myself, and probably others, I need to find a better outlet for my stress before I give myself cancer again.  Truer words were never spoken.

Of course, I can't know that I gave myself cancer, but I do know that I didn't do myself any favors. Blaming myself, or anyone else, won't make it go away, either.  Now is the time to decide what I want to make of my life and do it.  I know it will not be a cake walk.

To that end, today was the first day of acupuncture.  Even needlephobic me had no trouble.  It really felt like nothing, especially compared to the ten IVs I blew out.  He warned me that people often fall asleep.  I inwardly scoffed, but I nearly did.  I go back on Friday for round two.

I have massage therapy and physical therapy.  I have speech therapy. There are exercises to practice, phrases to practice, and swallowing to practice.  There is garden variety exercising and stress relief to do. I have to "eat" as many good calories as I can because I misplaced twenty pounds somewhere. I have to put these ahead, or at least amongst, the laundry, dishes, etc.  Just as soon as this head cold clears.

I don't know if you can imagine a head cold when you are already swollen, but it is unpleasant to say the least.  Every time I sneeze, it feels like my flongue is going to shoot out and skitter across the floor. My nose runs and runs, and then plugs up, but only on the left side.  Hmmm... why?  Is it draining into the fistula? My ear?  Some other secret compartment?  I kind of don't want to think about it.  I really actually just want a good nights sleep. Maybe the snot fairy won't visit tonight.  I can dream, can't I?

Until tomorrow, dood nite...