Tuesday, March 31, 2015

I'm doing fine*




Well, I haven't been updating my blog regularly, and I apologize for that.  I returned to work in September so my time is no longer a series of empty days that all blend together, and I've had trouble finding time and inspiration.  There's a lot I could discuss, but basically, I've rejoined society,  doing the shirt-and-tie gig, with plans to go to grad school in the fall.  My health is much better, but not 100% -- it seems for every milestone I reach, there is another challenge thrown my way.  Two steps forward, one step back, or is it the other way around....

One step forward, one step forward, one step forward....

In January I had my 18-month post-transplant scan, which showed I am still in remission.  It also showed the early signs of avascular necrosis of the hip (aka, bone death) caused by the steroids I'm on which are the bane of my existence.  Sometimes I feel like my life is the lyrics to a Carcass song.  My chronic graft versus host disease has started to affect the tissue in my joints greatly decreasing my flexibility.  This was determined after I failed to pass the "prayer test" (putting your palms together against your chest and raising your elbows), which I guess makes sense because God was never in my plans anyway.

Help me Jesus, save me from this mind you gave me

That aside, I'm doing well.  I'm succeeding at my job, starting a career, and all that.  I'm recently engaged, have a little nugget of a dog, and other things that make me happy and I shouldn't take for granted.  But even with all the things that go right and the good things I have, I still get overwhelmed, worried, and angry.  But I have to put on a face and that is something I hate.  The troubling thing about cancer is that you want to maintain your privacy, but you also want people around you to realize a little bit of the hell you're going through.  And even though I'm in remission, and things are getting back to normal, there are many times where I feel like I am in hell.  There are many days where I am well-dressed and put together, but if you were to untie my tie, my head would fall off like the girl in that old scary story.

If human beings could have punctuation marks attached to them, I would want an asterisk following me around.  Because however I appear, whatever I say, whether I'm laughing and smiling or looking serious, there are things that I don't express, things my demeanor might omit.  This asterisk has been following me since before my diagnosis (It's a fatty tumor,* Your scan is clear,* Your scan is still clear*), so why not just fasten one to myself so everybody who sees me will consider that there is more than meets the eye.  But I guess everyone has their own asterisks, right?

Till next time....