Oh, hi

The oncologist asked me today if I was nervous to start chemo again this week. A little, I said. Every time you guys do something to me, it’s a disaster. She didn’t argue with that. I think I would feel more reassured if she told me I was being hyperbolic in my assessment of my treatment to date, but she didn’t. She just agreed with me. And then she told me they were lowering my dose since they are a bit nervous about what might happen to me. Well, I’ve had confidence inspired right through me.

As much as I didn’t want the two-week delay on chemo (which I discovered would have been a three-week delay if Dr. M had her way), I enjoyed having another brief period of feeling relatively good without chemo side effects muddying that up. I didn’t have a choice about the delay, but I did have a say in how I spent that time. Which was out of the house, for the most part. (True story — spending the better part of three months inside your house, never going outside, will drive you crazy.)

I get a lot of messages from people who tell me they read my blog. I also have lots of conversations in the flesh (now that I’m leaving the house again) with people who tell me they read my blog. I’m always flattered and a little bit embarrassed — I don’t feel as though I say anything of much interest most of the time, and the unedited, journal-y writing is kind of shameful for someone who makes her living editing other people’s words. (This is not a ploy to garner your praise and/or reassurance that I am the most scintillating human being to ever write about her life on the internet ever, but, you know, I’ll take it if you insist on giving it.) I’m apologetic to people who bring up the blog in person. I feel like I have to explain that I’m not nearly as maudlin or depressive as it would seem from what I write here. I hope most of you know that (whoever most of you may be). I am fine, usually. If there is any one emotion I feel most through all of this, it’s annoyed. If annoyed counts as an emotion. Maybe it’s just a state of being. Whatever it is, I feel it more than I feel pretty much any other negative feeling. For instance, today when I was getting blood drawn and the blood tech asked me if I was tired because I was sitting there without saying anything, I could have said, No, I am just annoyed that I have to sit here and be jabbed by needles. I didn’t though, I just agreed that I was tired. It was the nice thing to do.

All of this is to say that I am still alive, I’m not moping around (too much), and I have treatment this week, so if you feel like coming over and reading aloud to me while I pretend to be more affected by the chemo than I am, you should drop me a line. Actually, if you feel like reading aloud to me anytime, you should let me know. Listening to other people read is one of my favourite pastimes.

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About Alicia Louise

I'm a writer, editor, fact checker, storyteller, events organizer, chronically busy yet endlessly lazy, mildly neurotic (though I keep the neuroses well-hidden, one hopes) 32-year-old with recurrent ovarian cancer. I like people and good writing and straight talk. I have a hard time feeling sorry for people, including myself, but the people that I love, I love passionately; one may even say creepily. I try to keep that mostly to myself. I'd like to be charming, but I'm usually just a mess. I'm like a gull slamming into your windshield.
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2 Responses to Oh, hi

  1. jenna says:

    I will be there on Saturday and I am awful and reading aloud! It is my anti-skill and a total embarrassment…

  2. sharon says:

    I read about you in the Star Living section tonight. I started my day watching the Royal Wedding at 4:30 a.m., worked a full day and just now have got to the morning newspaper. When I read your blog I felt the fatigue you described. I’m much older than you and have only just discovered the magic of B12 tablets – “one a day”. Sometimes I can actually remember things that my much younger colleagues can’t – weeks ago I wanted to go to sleep by 3:30 in the afternoon. Might help.

    I spent some time in hospital with my Mother who had cancer in the early 90’s. To this day, I remember another patient, a young Mother who had ovarian cancer. I have thought of her many times – I didn’t even know her name. Trust that you impact many people and that you touch the hearts of many in ways that you could not imagine. I love that you are bringing a greater awareness to the disease.

    My belief is that it takes a community to keep one going. I suggest a naturopath, nutritionist, chiropractor, massage therapist, spiritual counselor, and your regular medical practitioners – whatever it takes. Also, remember that your “gut” is your defense system – you need to replenish the natural bacteria that the meds are destroying. Did I mention the power of meditation and positive thinking. I know this may sound lame, but it can make a difference.

    I am sitting in my bathrobe – I work from home and after the four hour weddingathon I didn’t have time to shower or dress before my work day took over. It’s been a PJ day. With a glass of red wine I toast your courage and hope you have had the energy to watch the spectacle of hope the royal couple have brought to the world today.

    I feel like a slug – if I had my pedometer on today the limited steps would be medically criminal. I can’t tell you about what I saw in the outside world today, but I do see that the tulips have shot up higher in my backyard in the last couple of days and that a squirrel lay sprawled on my fence today enjoying the sun.

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