THUMBS DOWN II

Hi. Last night while walking the dogs I came to the conclusion that I'm too afraid to have the another cortizone shot. I'm going to call the doc and seriously ask about being sedated. If they won't sedate me, I don't think I'm going to do it, even though I see the results in my right thumb, which is now relatively fine. Or, I just thought of something. Maybe I could ask a friend or two to come in the room with me and hold onto me when they do it. That feels like it would make a difference. That way, I could take something to dull me, and they could drive me down and back. I think knowing someone in the room loves me will help. I'm going to start asking friends today. It's at the point where I can't even extend it all the way back when I first wake up, and the swelling is such that the wrinkles over my thumb knuckle are starting to disappear. The nodule at the base of the thumb is getting bigger and bigger and hurts when I touch it, particularly around it, on the sore tendons. Such a drag. For a recap on the trigger thumb odyssey, click here.

Hard to get up today. I just realized it's because I haven't taken Lamictal for several days because I didn't have the money to pick up the prescription. I should have it now. Will check the bank and swing by and get the med today. It's one of the ones I take for depression. Better do that right now. I just remembered that with Lamictal if you're off of it for three days, you have to start at the beginning and gradually increase your dose or you could get a very dangerous rash. I also haven't been taking the Femara due to financial woes. I'll pick that up today.

I had a realization the other night, that at some level I must believe I am unworthy of true, lasting happiness. I think there is some deep deep wound -- probably a result of my mom's premature death and all the chaos that followed -- that says no matter how successful I am, I will always struggle or be hurt. I thought of a great beginning to a line for a book last night: Life is a mine field or a FILL IN THE BLANK, depending on how we look at it. The "Fill in the Blank" part is the word I haven't conjured up yet. Really it is. Life is life. Bad, hard things happen, but so do great joyful things. We can choose to focus on the pain or the joy. It's totally up to us.

You know, come to think of it....the fact that I am sensing this deep wound and the belief that I am meant to struggle could also be due to the lack of Lamictal in my brain. Wow! I don't think I've ever made that connection before. Usually the meds are screwed up and I'm really down, and then I realize why I'm having these thoughts/beliefs. It's only been three days. The brain is such a mystery. I mean, at my core, when I'm feeling totally well, I believe anything is possible. But, after having the cancer and all that entailed, I am definitely more cynical. Definitely.

I met with K yesterday to go over my visual journal with her before giving it to her to scan for her thesis in art therapy (for your newbees, click here for more info on the visual journaling.) Last night, before meeting with her, I created two pages that revolved around losing my hair. I pasted the "Congratulations Susan! You've completed chemotherapy" certificate on one whole page, and the facing page I coated with Modge Podge, then dropped strands of the hair I shaved off my head back in November 2008. I then dropped strands of hair atop the chemo certificate, and in discussing the pages with K, I realized how incredibly RIDICULOUS it was/is to CELEBRATE having gone through chemo. How fucked up is that? (sorry to the folks who gave me the certificate). At the time it's like "Wow! I feel special. Look, they gave me this colorful certificate with balloons on it and everything. It even has candy taped to it. This is something for which I feel proud and grateful." The reality is, once all that fucked up reality of cancer treatment is over, there is nothing pleasant about treatment (though I have to say the free lunches were the best part). It's like they want to do (bless them) whatever they can to make you feel as good as possible during treatment, which is their job, yes. But, the reality is, that's really not REAL. What's REAL is all the physical problems and emotional toil it generates. Check out the post CHEMO GRADUATION for details.

Yes, wooo hooo, I got through chemo with a smile on my face, but I also almost went into anaphelactic shock during the second treatment, I lost all my hair, got mouth sores, have had all these problems with my joints, have osteopenia, am in menopause (from oophorectomy), have had to deal with trauma from my childhood as a result of loosing ALL of my hair. You know, ALL of it. EVERYWHERE. Taking showers was really upsetting. I had to do it with my eyes closed. So much to deal with, and YAY, I finished chemo on January 28, 2009. Congratulations, Sue! Be happy. Be proud. We're so happy for you. What a great accomplishment. I'm ranting. It's good though, to get to this anger. The anger is real. It's not good or bad. It just is. Better to get it out than stew on it and get depressed. I can now choose to focus on hope, which is always a Helpful Thing To Do, as Winnie the Pooh would say. So, let's do that: focus on hope.

Love,
Sue