So Very Tired

I don't really have anything interesting to say. But I am having a bout of extreme frustration with my situation and I don't want to sit with it quite yet. I want to write about it first. I usually do things the other way around. This post may be more like a catch you up to date on how things are actually proceeding in my cancer journey/ bitch fest than anything else. Don't look for inspiration here. This is just me venting.

I've gone back to work full time. I feel great when I'm at work so know its a good thing for me. It's nice to have some what of an income again. But I often wonder if its still too much. Much like when I fist started chemo, I seem to have an allotted amount of energy and then I crash. I have lost all interest in cleaning my house, mainly because I don't have the energy for it. I used to love to nest. Now the chores that I used to love feel like chores and i find myself fantasizing about a house cleaning service. I'm also interviewing plastic surgeons to get second opinions regardimg my reconstruction debacle. That takes up a lot of time. There is also the research. What could have caused the infections? The fear of more infections, the fear of more surgeries, the fear of a less than desirable cosmetic outcome due to very delayed reconstruction. These are all thoughts that when I let my mind free to roam, plague me. I have reached out to my current surgeon to let him know what I'm doing and say that he isn't completely off the table to continue reconstruction, that I had been traumatized by what happened and I really needed to feel like i was getting all of the information that I could and making the best decision for my care. That relationship was difficult to consider parting with, I think it has a lot to do with him seeing me from the beginning. He saw me when I was who I was. Pre cancer treatment. The people I now meet see a bald chick with no breasts. a new beast for sure, but there was comfort in having someone who is in charge of restoring something cancer takes away see you as the person you once were. And we become attached to these people as we plow through these terrifying blows we are handed. He had been a beacon of hope for me. He was going to make me beautiful again. And he did, but things went wrong and now I'm left with this. I wanted to sit down and consult with him again possibly. It was a heartfelt email. I didn't want him to be blindsided and I wanted all the cards on the table. But he hasn't responded. So I'm a little annoyed about that.

Like I mentioned earlier, I will feel great for a few hours a day and then I crash. When I crash its so hard though. I feel I still have so much healing to do, and I worry that my plate is too full. I wonder if my efforts shouldn't be so focused on finding a new surgeon when I am still I'm cancer treatment, and there are other things that are paramount to my healthcare. For instance, I have to start getting screened for ovarian cancer every 6 months (it should have happened by now) but the OBGYN that I chose, because she takes a more holistic approach, is practically impossible to get a hold of. I had my initial consult with her where we discussed how we would screen and watch for tamoxifen side effects, and she would get my cancer records and proper test orders from my other doctors and get back to me. This was over two weeks ago. Still nothing. I wish I didn't feel a sense of urgency concerning reconstruction and would focus more on these things. Having the second of my implants removed eased some of the urgency since I hated wearing a prosthetic and I hated only having one boob. I also hated feeling torn about whether to stick with my surgeon or find a new one when I had one perfectly reconstructed breast and one deflated mass of skin. Now at least when I start over, it's a clean slate, if you don't count the scar tissue and all of the things that go along with my already being operated on four times in the last year. But there is a sense. I mean, in clothes I feel cute ish. I bought a padded bra. It covers up the mess underneath. I'm comfortable with the flat chest in clothes. But every time I undress I look down and I am reminded that I had cancer, am still fighting, and this is really happening. I lost my breasts. Psychologically there is a huge jump from waking up with expanders in serving as breast mounds and never having to see yourself flat...to going into a surgery that is supposed to be the easy one, to ending up with two chewed up looking pieces of flesh on your chest with deep red scars underlining them, at a time when things were expected to be wrapping up.


Then there is this awesome skin rash. It started a few days ago, on my belly. By this morning it was hip to hip and as I type it is crawling onto my back and my legs and up my mess of a chest, swarming around my port and creeping onto my shoulders. I spoke to both my oncologist and the nurse of the infectious disease doc on my case today. Oncologist wanted to wait to see what ID doc had to say, assuming he may take me off the diflucan. ID doc didn't bother to get back to me so I had to call his nurse at end of day. Oh yeah, she had spoken with him. He said he has never heard of any reaction like that to the drug and to take a Benadryl. If it doesn't go away or goes worse ill have to come in and see one of the other doctors since he will be on vacation. It could be the tamoxifen, my hormone blocking drug; it could be the diflucan, my antifungals drug. I've been on both for the same amount of time. I'm also having searing chest pains and shortness of breath. This could be a result of all of the surgeries. This could be a side effect of the tamoxifen. This could also mean that although I'm holding my shit together pretty fucking well, I'm pretty anxious about the situation. Faith or no faith. The shit gets old when it doesn't stop slinging.

I'm tired. I'm so very tired. That's the truth.

These are Just some of the Things

Our wedding anniversary is in 15 days. No one is banking on us being able to do much, as I will be one day closer to my last round of chemo infusions, and I have gotten more sick with each one. Kayla's mom is here again, just like last year, to help. This time she's not making pies, helping sew finishing touches on our wedding clothes and preparing for family and friends to be here for our magical weekend. She's cleaning our house and maintaining our yard. She is touching things we haven't been able to reach for lack of time, money, energy. It's nice to have her here. It's comforting to feel like someone is taking care of Kayla. It hasn't been easy. For me, that's a given. As for Kayla, I've seen her coping right before my eyes. Like an extension of my brain and like clockwork she makes the world still go round. She works constantly. Sometimes I think I am disappearing. She often reminds me that I'm not. For me it takes a lot of reminding. This cancer is like quicksand. It's difficult to muddle through. I reckon I will find a way to keep afloat, and that I will reach a place of normalcy in my life. Maybe even joy. I hope so...

Because, I am suddenly consumed with worry about my prognosis. I have managed to get this far into this cancer journey without asking too many questions about my chances of survival or recurrence. When I asked my oncologist at our last appointment, "So, how do we know that all this worked?" He kind of chuckled and shook his head. "We will know in time. There aren't any blood tests that are going to show us. We just have to wait and see." Without getting into too much detail about the cancer itself, I will just say here that there are two characteristics of it that exist simultaneously and are also slightly opposing and that make my cancer slightly rare and more aggressive. I think it's something like 35% of breast cancers have both of these characteristics. This means that there are two different ways of looking at my survival rate, but those two percentages have to be considered in lieu of the other. I find it confusing so I realize that as a reader this might not make a lick of sense of it at all. Due to this sudden lack of certainty I feel a little trapped in this state of mind that is a whirlwind of what ifs, and why even bothers. I will find a way to tie all of this confusion into a neat little bow eventually. It's just that right now I'm in pain. I'm sick. Im sore. Im stiff. Im lonely. I hardly recognize my own face. Im scared. And there is a little taste of bitterness in my mouth.

Sometimes the effortlessness of existence that people crank out around us astonishes me. It's just that when Kayla and I managed to pull out our wedding from scratch last year, it symbolized the building of a foundation from what we were determined to build upon. We were hunting for an ease, a bite of that effortlessness. We spent so many of our efforts rapidly weaving our safety nets and our home into a happy nest. We built. But then the diagnosis. I just look around at the ease and effortlessness that I imagine in the lives around me and wonder if I will ever feel a part of that momentum. Like I'm not expecting to be denied or to lose or to die, even. These are the things I'm supposed to be learning not to fear. Loss, denial, death. These are just some of the things.

Woman Centric Life

The greatest universally understood goal in trying to achieve conception when consciously baby planning is to relax and eliminate stress. So silly because the conscious planning in itself is anxiety fructifying. That said I believe that I have been residing in a pretty awesome place since shortly after my last blog entry. The entry itself brought support via social media that was quite sweet and appreciated. Two women in particular that I hardly knew reached out and resulted in my inspiration to start a private lesbian baby planning support group on Facebook! The three of us planning to carry, along with our wives can now swap stories, share blogs, books, and offer inspiration and support. It has been a really cool thing thus far, and I doubt I would have gotten the idea if I hadn't been faced with the news of the dreaded high FSH levels. Its refreshing to find other couples with similar goals and lifestyles, also lesbians, to share in the journey of becoming parents, the not so old fashioned and sometimes incredibly overwhelming and confusing way. Then there are my precious jewels, the ladies with which we have developed close relationships with over the last few years, coming together for an uplifting impromptu dinner party last week. It was that night that I felt my anxiety truly begin to melt away. There is such great power in the support you gain from the people that know you and love you best, and unconditionally. It is no secret that we lead a female centric life, so it is actually no surprise to me that this is the place my soul has dug it's heels into, in preparation for our pregnancy attempts. I revel in my relationship with my amazing partner, in our cuddly monkeys and in the joy that these kick ass women bring to our lives. I am doing yoga, getting acupuncture treatments, taking herbs, and treating my body well. All of the above turns out to be my recipe for stress relief. I am finding myself observing throughout the days leading up to our first attempt, the peacefulness and stillness in my heart. It's all good.

Fertility

We had our "plan of care" visit with the new OBGYN on Friday. I was expecting her to go over all of the blood work and proclaim that my health and fertility hath no bounds and that we were good to go for an IUI. Instead, she told me that my FSH (Follicular stimulating hormone) levels tested "alarmingly high" which is "indicative" of poor ovarian reserve. This could be a challenge in trying to conceive, and could mean higher risk of miscarriage. She gave us a rundown of options, from giving us a maximum of three cycles without intervention, three IUI cycles with Clomid, or heading straight to a reproductive endocrinologist for stronger fertility drugs or IVF. In a span of 10 minutes or less we discussed multiple birth risks, prices, the question of early menopause running in my family, etc. I sat there smiling and nodding, feeling composed, almost as if I was expecting this news, showing no indication that I would clam up 15 minutes later in the parking lot and drive home stone faced, feeling hopeless and negative. I tried to cry, but the tears were forced. It was fight or flight to me at that moment and I didn't know which option to choose. I went from feeling like a virile young and strong 33 year old woman to a prematurely aging case, broken, eggs shriveling by the minute. Since then I have gotten a second opinion from my acupuncturist. Her opinion is that I will be able to treat my body with herbs and acupuncture to lower the FSH level. I am already responding to the treatments that we have been doing over my last cycle, my 12 day ultrasound did show a follicle and I am ovulating, so those are all good signs. We decided to go ahead with the IUI next month without drug intervention and see what happens. It is ironic. We went into the search for an OB that would perform IUI, rather than head straight to a fertility clinic (the only direction we were pointed by three separate OBGYN's in the last two years) with the opinion that I should not have to be treated as a fertility challenge since I had no reason to believe I would have problems getting pregnant, only to be faced with this news by our new favorite OB. I am working through the emotions that something like this packs on, the internal issues it brings up. It is one moment at a time. Meditation and yoga are to be my right and left hand ladies over the next month. Wish us luck!

Like Whoa

Happy election season, everyone!  I have layers of emotions to pilfer through. There are four major competing emotions.  These four culprits are to blame for my lack of expression, pertaining to this blog specifically.  When so many areas of my mind are clogged up in competition for my attention, it is difficult for me to believe that I am capable of expressing anything that isn't regurgitated or lackluster, with all of the BS that is swarming our senses literally every second that we "plug in". 

Since this is supposed to be a blog about marriage, more specifically a blog about an unrecognized gay marriage, I feel obligated to keep up with the blog, even as all of the above culprits work against my creative juices during this particular election season. In an effort to produce something legible and mildly interesting, I began three separate drafts before heading to the shower, relinquishing myself to another barren blog day.  Finally, as I was on around stroke 90 of my 100 nightly hair-brushings I decided to kick the buckets of the last three drafts and try to express instead my main reasons for procrastination, give each culprit a name, and talk about why they haunt me. This is an exercise to open my mind and heart in hopes that something real and more meaningful can escape from the bars of my blocked intellect in future blog posts during this political season.

Anxiety/fear

 I fear a Republican president. Fiscally, I fear for the amount of lower and middle class Americans buying into a presidential candidate who does not have their best interest in mind. My opinion and belief is that while neither party is perfect and sound, the Democratic party represents my values and the values of "the people." I come from a family of doers, but we have had our struggles, and I have personally depended on pell grants and loans to aid in my education. As long as I can remember, I have identified with a "folksier" idealism.   This is the main reason why the Democratic platform speaks to me.  Secondly, I  hate that we are debating over civil rights for gay people and that we still face so many hurdles in order to gain the rights that my community so greatly deserves. I loathe the idea of taking major steps backward when we have taken great leaps toward equality in only the last couple of years.  Finally, I like affordable health care. My experience with it thus far has been pretty sweet. The refund check from my old insurance company, due to the affordable health care act was an added bonus.  I would prefer that not to go away. 

Hope/excitement

On the other hand, gay marriage is officially on the Democratic party platform. This is huge! This is wonderful! The feeling in my heart is like Christmas!  We are at the brink of real change. The idea that I could someday legally marry my wife in the state where we live fills me with so much hope and joy. The idea of future generations in our shoes, not having to experience the ugliness that surrounds this debate today is refreshing.  It is beautiful. I can taste it... we are so fucking close. 

Frustration

Demons come out in people in hot political climates. I hate the aggressive comments on Facebook, the outright bigotry, the disregard for others' feelings or personal plight. Self righteousness and arrogance trump reason, hard facts and manners. I am saddened that we seem to forget that we are all human. Most of us care deeply about our community, our country, and what our future, and the futures of our children will hold. We forget that there is room for all of us in this country, and we should be able to cooperate and work together to improve our own lives and those lives around us. There is certainly room for us to disagree, but there is no room in my heart, personally, for blatant disrespect.  Those of us whom are of legal age to vote are supposed to be grown ups, and I am afraid not everyone is acting the part. There seems to be more name calling, shit slinging and finger pointing than fact checking and researching, or even soul searching.  More so, I detest the ugliness that the demons bring out in people that I know or have known in the past. I like to practice keeping an open heart and mind, essentially believing that we are all inherently good and that things like hate, disrespect,and bigotry are somehow learned, or are stemmed from self consciousness or fear. Having such a deeply personal issue on the hot seat tests my compassion for people who believe themselves morally superior, especially when their example speaks quite the opposite.  I have to find a way to stand up for myself while keeping my personal peace intact.  It is uncomfortable at best, threatening at times. 

Romance

Kayla and I were set up on a semi blind date to watch the vice presidential debates four years ago. I was already impressed by her scorching good looks and her movie tastes listed in her Myspace profile, and as awkward as our first meeting was, her whip smart  commentary during the debate had me swooning. I was thrilled when she asked me to stay afterward for a beer, and from there we proceeded our rather slow courtship that resulted in the rockstar relationship that we have today. We honeymooned through the election season and baked an apple pie for America the night before the election, when we decided that we would be in a relationship, officially, and discussed in detail what that decision meant to each of us.  So when Obama was elected, we were fresh in love, full of hope for ourselves and our relationship, and full of a bursting hope for our country, that we agreed so passionately was not in the best hands with former President Bush. We cried and held hands as we watched him give his acceptance speech. It was so romantic and wonderful. People were dancing in the streets from west campus to downtown east Austin. I felt patriotic for the first time since I was a little girl, and I imagine those dancers in the street were feeling something similar.  So, as we begin to feel the first winds of fall blow into town, and feel the buzz of energy of election season spring into life, I can't help but have flashbacks of the woman I met four years ago, the sexy little beast who hates onions as much as I do and loves Pedro Almodovar, almost certainly more than I do.  She has deeply affected me, helped me to grow stronger and more solid in my convictions.  She holds my heart and breathes my ideals.  She feeds my passion, supports my endeavors and rocks my world.

These culprits compete for my attention.  I would love to spend these days dazzled by my love, and relishing in the memories of our budding romance that is still so strong today...but we are here now.  At this place in time.  And shit got serious.  We are a family now.  We share a house.  We share a life.  We are ready to have children.

We need this election.

Like Whoa. 

Just a Cog

Historically I find myself with lightning bolts of positive, creative and/or inspiring ideas on the tail end of excrutiating bouts of depression. Here I record it publicly for the first time. Perhaps the admission will calm the nauseating nerve wracking state of existence the next time D for Depression and A for anxiety decides to take over my body, when I fear the worst...that it could be an indefinite state of being. I could record the last two weeks of social activity, showcasing my good time of a life that I spend with my beautiful wife and our adorable dog and cat children, aboding in our modest little house made gorgeous by the blood sweat and tears of our very own beings...surrounded by our friends...who are funny, intelligent, stylish, adorable, kind, thoughtful, sweet, loyal, incredible without a doubt. We spend Memorial Day with the gals. We share food and laughs and a lazy water fight. A dear friend comes to town and shacks up with us for a few days. We have date nights and we have dinners and birthday drinks and other various social interactions. All the while I feel exhausted, fatigued, burnt out, out of shape, unmotivated, uninspired and downright sad. I don't sleep and when I do I have nightmares. When I wake I fear the worst things happening, and by the end of the day I am ready for the sofa or the bed. I look at my wife, cooking cheerfully in the kitchen and I utter various combinations or a singular statement of any of the following... "I feel nauseous and I don't know why... I want to cry...My body aches, head hurts, I feel out of shape, I need to excercise but I feel perfectly incapable of lifting a finger...My body feels literally heavy, tired and sad, even my eyelids feel weighted, I can't breathe..." We have a healthy understanding of one another's patterns, weaknesses, strengths, and battles, which makes for what I find to be a healthy breeding ground of coping mechanisms. She won't wallow with me in my symptoms but she certainly won't bark at me to get the F over myself either. She nourishes the positive and asks me what I might be able to do to feel better. She leaves me to work it out but is available if I need to talk it out. All the while she makes healthy food for us to eat and continues to do her part to contribute health and happiness to the life that we have committed to living with each other. Fast forward to now. After work on Saturday we delivered a home cooked meal to a friend who had just come home from a 3 week hospital stay. We then spent the evening celebrating with our vast and colorful Austin community at the third annual Queerbomb. On Sunday we went to a free screening at the Alamo of a new movie called Hit and Run written and produced by Dax Shephard, starring himself and Kristen Bell, followed by a Q&A with Dax and Kristen, which was awesome! The weekend left me feeling invigorated and able to soak in all the light that I missed while I was "down." I am seeing the physical toll that my mental bout has bestowed. I feel a bit squishier. I haven't been to yoga in two weeks. But the cloud has lifted. My observation at this moment is that it might be quite possible to stockpile the wonder that is bogged down by the darkness and infuse it into a more lucid presence...creating something new. My process? Hence the proverb, "It is always darkest before the dawn." I am teeming with ideas for a new endeavor. Something that we have been tossing about for years may come to light in our near future. I don't want to share it all at once, but I have a gut feeling that now we are all just a cog in the momentum of it. I am smiling.