Every morning I wake up early. It's way cold today and I love it. I try really hard to get back to sleep, but it just doesn't work. My body tells me, you are lucky to be alive today so get your ass out of bed.
I feel so normal, yet I know I'm not. I forget I'm bald until I realize how cold my head is or when I catch a glance in the mirror. I forget I'm sick until it's time, again, to take the handfuls of pills.
I wonder if I will ever be normal again. I've been flirting with this really cute Austin Boy on IM. He's perfectly adorable and knows I have leukemia, yet still is uber flirty, like I am a regular girl. It *feels* normal, yet I know it's not.
Yesterday my mom said, "when you get married again..." like that is just a given. Some days I think like that, but most, usually when I'm doing the heparin flush on my central line, or I see my bald head, or figuring out my meds for the day, I think this will never end.
I feel broken, like a repaired teacup. You still can drink out of it, but if you had to serve someone from a cup, you'd not offer up the repaired one first. I feel like if anyone ever wanted me again, I'd be like the consolation prize.
Some days I feel strong. The warrior. And I know that my mantra has always been "it's not where you are in life, but who you are in life." I've told that to others when they are down, and now I have to remind myself of that. This is just temporary. This isn't forever. But if that is the case, then why does it feel like that? Why does it feel like forever? And do most cancer survivors feel that way? When does that feeling end?
Yesterday someone marveled at my strength and my attitude. I told her that it was be strong or be scared shitless. She told me that I chose to be strong and that it was a choice. I'm not so sure if it is a choice. Some days I feel like I'm wavering on the edge. I'll be fine and then sometimes I just burst into tears. Not for a long cry, but just for a few minutes. I cry for my normalcy. I cry because I don't feel strong. I cry because I just want my life back. My job back. My apartment back. And mostly my child back.
I miss normalcy. Alot.
But then I pull myself together and think that if I waver in my strength, all that is left is the fear. And that is just not acceptable. Not. Acceptable. The fear will kill me. And stop me from what I need to do.
Which is simply to head back to normal. Or as I like to view it, to head forward to normal. Starting with today. Just today.
Today, appropriately, they are re-opening Emeril's restaurant in New Orleans. I root for New Orleans and the people there. Some say, don't rebuild, don't reopen, you are stupid for living in a timebomb. But that's how I feel. Some people, no matter the obstacles, think New Orleans has a charm and uniqueness that must be restored. Vegas is slick and new, but New Orleans has history and strength. Even moreso now.
There are some people that prefer the chipped cup. The familiar, the sweet, the comfortable. Something that has character and has withstood some adversity and yet stayed strong and purposeful.
I may feel broken, but I am unique. I value that. And there is someone, somewhere, someday, that will value that too.
I can do this.
Today your assignment is to value something that you never would have before. A favorite article of clothing you had long since written off, yet is still lovely and sentimental. Send a letter, a real letter, to someone that might need it, someone you have been overlooking. Enjoy the things that you take for granted, because you never know when those things might be gone someday. Hug someone one extra time today. And let them know you appreciate them.
Posted by debutaunt at December 8, 2005 07:12 AMYou feel different because you are. This will change you...for the better.
The wind is sweeter, the sounds richer and the light is much brighter. It happens when you get your world turned upside down. You appreciate life.
Love you and you know I am here. Holding your hand.
Paige
Posted by: Paige at December 8, 2005 10:12 AMLoved your post today. I'm here too, just like Paigey-Poo.
-Meers
Posted by: meerkat at December 8, 2005 12:41 PM"A clay pot sitting in the sun will always be a clay pot. It has to go through the white heat of the furnace to become porcelain." -- Stoven
A pretty new cup is a pretty new cup, and like all pretty new cups in a row, it sits there, looking just like all the other pretty new flawless cups. What can be said for it, what is distinctive about it? It is like all the other pretty new cups. A pretty cup with a chip and repair has a story to share, a personality, a charm, a uniqueness no other pretty cup can tell, in just the same way.
I am a breast cancer survivor, working on four years now as a survivor. I found you by way of Trish's Blogging For A Cause, and have been reading through your blog for a couple of days. You are a dear sweet good natured woman, it shines in your thoughts and words. I am not at all surprised someone is all uber flirty with you.
And yes, yes, yes, one day you will feel 'normal' again, only a better 'normal'.
Posted by: Dalene at December 8, 2005 12:59 PMtoday it's chilly in phoenix (yeah, i know, all of 60 degrees) and i'm wearing my favorite, my first cashmere sweater. it's motheaten and out of shape, and it's the softest thing in the world. and i'll keep it long after other ones are long gone.
you. can. do. this.
Posted by: Islay Girl at December 8, 2005 01:06 PMI can't imagine a world without New Orleans. I can't imagine a world without my younger cos. Debba Doo keeping us amused with her cleaver writing. Keep fighting. You have alot of people who are praying for your quick reunion with Zoe and a long bright future for you both.
Aloha Nui Loa
With Much Love.
EV
I'm ill everyday and I'm in what I call 'maintenance mode'. You'll get well one day. It will be a while, and things will be different for a while, but things will never be the same for you. One day you will be known as a cancer survivor and your family and friends will do as I did 2 weeks ago to another friend - they will say, "thank you for surviving cancer and kicking it's ass. It would really suck without you." When you're well, and you're walking down the street one day with your long hair again and you see yourself in the window you'll look and you'll just know - you survived. Not bad to be a little chipped. Not bad at all.
Oh, and your brother will get to lord it over you for the rest of your LIFE - not a bad deal either - considering the alternative....
Faithful reader, linda
Posted by: linda at December 8, 2005 02:18 PMI think you will be forever changed, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.
...A favorite article of clothing you had long since written off, yet is still lovely and sentimental...
How funny that this is my assignment for today!
I just dug an old coat out of the closet -- I bought it when I was pregnant with Youngest, it's huge now but I fell in love with it all over again...
don't forget to wear a hat...
I am proud to know you.
Deb,
I came over from Trish's blog and I identify with so much of this post. I went into a shop yesterday and didn't buy anything but instead stared at the strange bald woman wondering who I was.. but rest assured, the real, gutsy, strong women that we sometimes are is still there inside ready to spring back into our known bodies..
As for strength? You have true strength, true courage, the courage of true fear but gets on anyway. In a way, we have no choice because to do otherwise is to let it win, and that, that is not an option...
I feel I have known you from this post, all my life and I apologise if I am being presumptuous,
Minerva
Posted by: Minerva at December 8, 2005 06:08 PMBroken. That's the term I use for myself. My husband sees it as defeat, but I stand by it. I'd much rather be broken-- as in able to be mended. And it feels so much better than "sick" or "ill". So take heart if you can in knowing that there are many broken tea cups out there fighting the good fight right along with you.
Posted by: Tonia at December 8, 2005 09:28 PM