Stress Test

Upon arrival at the radi-onco's office Tuesday morning, I was presented a short stress survey. Pretty straight-forward, on a scale of 1 to 10, check yes or no to various factors like finances, childcare, self image, etc. Nothing like a good 32 factors blaring at you that you could start neurosing over. Considering mama had driven in that morning exclusively to "ask the doctor all of the possible questions" and Wilbur had prepared a laundry list of concerns (agitated by the ir/relevant forums that he spends more time with than with me), maybe there was more stress than I cared to realize. Could be tired, having spent the last Thurs-Sun in class, Mon at work (a bizarre day including devious office politics where there are plots to overthrow the current managers, a patient who demanded to see the "real" optometrist, and endless multifocal contact fits plus one follow up whose records were lost ... from 5 days ago (o Lenscrafter$, never ceases to amaze)).

Firmly, I circled "4" on the stress scale. Granted, I have a rather logarithmic scale, where

• 1 is a catatonic state - "Reality is the leading cause of stress for those in touch with it."
• 5 is kind of like playing modern warfare on a venti vanilla doubleshot
• 7 is simultaneous wedding planning, full time work, and getting in a car accident - "There cannot be a stressful crisis next week. My schedule is already full."
• 10 stress is simultaneous laughing, crying, and eating - "when you wake up screaming and you realize you haven't fallen asleep yet."

There was an undercurrent of dread and paranoia while expecting the PET results. What worried me was my right neck still felt swollen and left armpit tender to the touch, so I wondered if possibly the chemo didn't work. My hair was continuing to fall out (which it will, see later post), skin is patchy, and nails are so brittle - otherwise typical signs of stress.

Later on, Wilbur joked that I must have answered "1" on the survey, definitely a disconnect with how I feel and how the person closest to me perceives me. I mean, sure, I can keep my stress under control, there's no need to compound the situation by freaking out. But, as a patient, I find it my responsibility to set the tone for how others act around me. Is this also a reaction to the stress from people around me? Probably, and while this is the most frustrating to others when they worry and assume I'm lackadaisical, part of it is finding that their worry relieves me of my urgency to worry. I'm relegating my worry to others so I have time for more stuff. Like modern warfare.

First Friday sans chemo

Granted, the momentous day was celebrated by being chained to a chair through eight hours of continuing education, but all I could think of was I'm f r e e!

Monday

Poked twice in the right arm, twice in the left arm, once on left hand before IV successfully placed. Nurse: "Your veins are so deep, I was afraid I stuck the needle all the way through your arm!"

Sunday

On Easter Sunday, we were able to witness testimony from a girl newly baptized. It was about one year ago that I was baptized, and I came to realize how amazing the way life has unfolded since then. Because I have God, faith, community. Because I have peace and purpose. Because of my angels, family and friends, sent to protect and comfort. Because I can feel so much joy despite that otherwise dreadful fact. Obviously after my public proffering of faith came the diagnosis, but it struck me that I was just in time.

Saturday

What a blessing this weekend was. This was our first official date after chemo, and we also made up our annual D-land pilgrimage. Our history of memorable Disneyland moments notwithstanding (you may have heard tales of when I broke my arm, of when we scored a pair of special fastpass cards, of when I fell in some kid's vomit --> not all on the same day), our experience at Disney wasn't complete without trying the giant (it must have been 2 lbs) turkey leg for the first ... and last ... time.
As we stood in the interminable line for Indiana Jones, the cute couple behind us was gifted some fast pass by a kind stranger. For a second, Wilbur and I exchanged a look that said 'We used to be that couple!' It kind of made me wonder if we've been passed over by fortune and chance, like we somehow fell out of cosmic (Disney) favor. But decidedly enough, we've been blessed through and through and can spare to share the wealth with those other moony-eyed lovebirds.

Don't worry, my husband knows

There's nothing like hearing words your want to hear from the lips of a beautiful woman. You laugh ha ha, but it's true. Heart palpitating, eyelashes fluttering, fingers trembling, all with the nervous energy of meeting someone who will take part in defining your fate. You dress with greater care, you practice to say less stupid things, and most of all, you're prepared for bad news and potential frustration. Anyway, we talked, we laughed, and she answered all of my pressing questions. She was everything I hoped for: confident, outrageously smart, prepared, organized, and most of all, thoughtful and maybe even innovative. Tall, slim, olive skinned, regal, and lovely. Officially, I found my radiology oncology crush.

Day 138

Sunday was dreadful! With Wilbur congested and me nauseous, we were a sad chorus of miserable groaning. Plopped on each our own sofas like beached seals (maybe that's a better description of me than Wilbur who I will liken to ... a walrus ... cuz of his honking haha jp babe), we alternately slept and prayed for hope the day would get better. And it did. No kidding. No two day order in advance. Crispy, juicy duck. AND fried scallion pancake with spicy bean sauce. Ah, the day we found duck in the desert.