Desperately Seeking Normal

Hello! It's been 3 full weeks since the end of chemoradiation and I am slowly but surely on the mend. The sunburned tissue is healing, the freckles on my fingers and my tongue are fading away, my appetite has come back, the pain has mostly subsided, and most importantly, my boys are home with me again! How I missed them during those long and arduous weeks of treatment. Now I am spending my days healing by cuddling them, getting big hugs, "talking" with them, singing silly songs, dancing to SpongeBob Squarepants and just being a mommy again. Every little moment with them is an adventure, and never again will precious time with them be taken for granted. I feel that I am being well-rewarded for the weeks of tortuous treatment, so that I can come out on the other side ready to enjoy my kids again with all my might.

For a time, the world at large seemed so scary to me. For many weeks, my life consisted of shuttling back and forth between my house and the hospital for treatment, attached to a chemo pump 24/7. Then I was actually admitted to the hospital for 5 days, and I literally did not step across the threshold of my hospital room door for the entirety of my stay there. I lugged my IV stand around with me within the confines of the room, but not once did I step outside that room because it became my safe haven. When I was released home, finally disconnected from all the treatment equipment that served to remind me that I was not normal, the couch became my cocoon and never once did I linger outside even during the balmy July days. I was sick, racked with pain, in a haze of drugs, missing my kids, sometimes lonely and a little depressed. I would lay on the couch, staring out the window and succumbing to morbid thoughts even as the sun shone on and the clouds drifted by. But I was saving all of my energy and courage to attend the wedding of my good friend, Lam. I could not imagine missing it, but the idea of re-joining the real world terrified me because I felt fragile and alienated from anything remotely normal.

There was no way I was going to miss the wedding, so with pain pills in hand and hope in my heart that I would make it there and back without any sick episodes, I ventured out and was encouraged by the prospect of reuniting with my Vietnamese 214 friends. There was so much anxiety about dressing in street clothes and leaving my house. I even worried about what I would be able to eat at the wedding banquet. My friends Phuong and Karen were appointed as food police to ensure that I did not eat anything that I might have to pay dearly for later if it didn't agree with me. After treatment, my appetite was slow to come back and I was still battling the psychological fear of food. Throughout the meal, I kept leaning over and asking Phuong if I could eat any honey-walnut shrimp or stuffed crab claws. She would dutifully inform me that I could have maybe one or two shrimp and only half a crab claw since it was deep-fried. I could only imagine what the people at our dinner table were thinking since it probably sounded as if I was asking for permission from another adult to eat. I made it through the entire wedding without incident, and was proud that I had again joined the current of life instead of letting it pass me by.

I have my good and bad days because fatigue is still a constant enemy, but the past week has brought me ever so much closer to normal, even though normal has been re-defined for me. But I'll take what I can get, and I can now enjoy life again through new eyes. I am re-connecting again with long-lost friends and have had several truly good conversations in the past week, most notably with Jodie and Jenny. I realize that I am still not quite myself and yet my self has been distilled into a purer form through this experience. I cannot even begin to pay back the kindness of family and friends as they've helped me through this, but as Jodie put it, "You don't pay it back, you pay it forward." I hope to be able to do this in whatever way I can manage to in the years to come, heaven willing any time given to me. My sincere thanks to all those friends who have called, sent cards, visited and given me kind words and good energy in order to heal. There is a Vietnamese saying that roughly translates to something like, "Friendships multiply joy and divide grief". Or alternately, "With friends, joy shared is doubled and sorrow shared is halved." These words represent a profound truth for me and I can only feel humbled and grateful for both the caliber and quantity of friendships in my life. I hope I'm around a long time so that I can continue to pay it forward. My love to you all.