Saturday, January 1, 2011

Sorting it all out

Over the last few weeks, I've been finding it more difficult than usual to update the blog. It's been a combination of things like the holidays and steroids colluding to keep me away. Mainly, I haven't liked any of the topics that have occurred to me.

My steroid weight gain has topped out at 10 pounds over the last two weeks. It's mostly around my midsection and it's making me miserable. I know it's mostly fluid. I know it will resolve once the steroids stop. I know that I am still me.

I'm still bothered. Nothing fits. Nothing. I had to buy new tops about a month after the steroids started for the same reason. I just ordered a slew of tops in the next bigger size. I am uncomfortable in my own skin and it has brought me perilously close to a pity party.

I'm not complaining about feeling fat. Steroid weight isn't like that for me. If you could see me in real life, you'd know what I was talking about. My legs are still the same size as they were in the beginning, if not smaller from deteriorating muscle tone. I look a bit like a scaled down version of Violet Beauregard from the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie starring Gene Wilder, post gum debacle.

It's a matter of looking like the odd man out. I tend to like to blend in with the herd. Especially post cancer. I've managed to distinguish myself enough in the world of weird disorders and treatment. Time for someone else to shine.

The frustration of this all has fed into a general feeling of what's next?

That's not like me and I've worked on snapping out of it. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, and I don't want any one else to. I am putting one foot in front of the other and I am determined to plow through this just like I've done each time before.

I just had to remind myself of why I keep doing this. I get up every day because I want to stick my thumb in the eye of cancer. I write this blog so that others who have been diagnosed know that they aren't alone. Every day that I push forward toward my goals is a win and we all like to win.

Eight days from today, four years ago, I was told that I had leukemia. Two days later, I started treatment in Houston. I think I'll let these two dates pass with no celebration. I'll have made four years and as far as I'm concerned, that's a major win.





6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Happy New Year! And many many more!

NJer

Kcecelia said...

With love to you, Ann. Love for bravery and clear-eyed wisdom, hard-earned. No pity, but admiration and love. xox.

Lisa Adams said...

I don't think I ever put it together that we were realizing at the same time we both had cancer four years ago. That just literally stopped me in my tracks. I wish we had been friends then, I think we could have supported each other then as we do now.

You may not mark it, we all feel different things different years. I will mark it for you, though, because I am happy you are alive and my friend. I am sorry for how you feel but keep pushing through, my dear... I need you here in this world with me.
Lisa

Galit Breen said...

This had me teary-eyed. Thank you for sharing and writing about your story. I believe in things that are meant to be and *someone* who needs to know that they are not alone will find this and read it and see your strength and it will be good. Happy New Year to you! I'm so very happy that I found your blog today!

Tracy said...

Your journey has encouraged me as I have gone through a transplant. You look beautiful, soon you will be back to your regular self and continuing to give cancer the thumb

stinkerbelle said...

Eloquent and strong, as always! You truly are an inspiration to many, myself included. Happy New Year, I know this year has lots of wonderful things in store for you!

P.S. Stop giving cancer the thumb and start giving it the finger!!!

Amanda