I will not be going shopping EARLY tomorrow morning, for obvious reasons.
I have put in some orders to my brother and his girlfriend who still brave the post turkey morning sales.
I am still holed up in the house, in isolation, but now with a monster cough.
Monster cough has been here since last Saturday.
It’s the type of cough that starts and needs to keep going until I can clear the spit from my airways and breath again.
It’s the stop, stare, and wonder if that woman is going to die cough. It sounds, to everybody else, that I have some severe problem.
I have a pharmacy I’ve been tapping all week.
Right now, I’m curled up in bed with a bottle of Tussionex. I don’t feel well.
I’ll check my lungs later. I was a little wheezy the other day, or I was audibly wheezing the other day.
I had trouble getting through to anyone. I am so tired. I was too sick to keep dialing numbers to find a professional opinion. I stopped and busted into the medicine cabinet. I loaded up. I’ve been a little loaded since then.
I’m still nauseas. I had sweet potatoes for thanksgiving with a couple bites of turkey and stuffing. I took my marinol and it didn’t work.
I’ve been nauseas. I think it’s from whatever is messing with my respiratory system.
I’m entering the post transplant crazy period. They should really coin a term for what I feel and what started to happen 6 weeks out.
Just to give you an idea of how long I've felt like this, see the picture to the right. This is my sister and me, at Thanksgiving, in 2006. That was two years ago.
I’m getting grouchy. I’m in pain. Joint pain that is so severe it hurts to get out of bed. When X touches me or runs into me, I grimace. X is a rough boy. I have bruises all down my legs from playtime.
So I will not be going out and asking for more suffering to shop. Right now, I am not going to miss it.
I do miss Yanellie, Chris, Isaiah, and Victor. They couldn’t make it this year. The kids are kind of sick. I don’t have the energy. This is a break and tradition.
As far as black Friday, there was some talk of going to a city, but that city got changed to Lebanon.
I don’t know if I would go in any city, especially when I’m barely 110 lbs with no muscle tone. I can not pull my cancer card there. DENIED. Even me, as a masked, gloved, bald cancer patient does not get first grab of the toys.
I need something special for my boy. TOO BAD. You better be able to fight.
T goes to Toys R’ Us in Times Square, the epicenter of Manhattan.
I can barely go through there on a regular day. The mob is too much to handle.
T would take me down over a toy. She likes to “throw bows” anyway. Those elbows are pointy, with a lot of muscle and aggression behind it.
Actually, if we went head to head for a toy, she wouldn’t need to.
I’d take one look at her and say, “Oh, hi. I was just taking this off the shelf for you.”
I’d hand it over in a heartbeat and pray she didn’t hurt me.
Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about this. She has my back. I’m a lucky girl.
I tried, I really wanted to make this positive and uplifting for the season, but I'm not about to lie.
This season will be difficult. This is not because of the shopping (not all). I'm missing the X-mas parties, the bar gatherings. I won't be doing the "cookie day" that I always thought I'd do with X. He won't be coming home to Brownies. He'll be coming home to what he's got. I won't be taking him to see Santa and waiting in crowded lines with other infectious kids. I'll be here, but my mom steps in, he'll be treated right. His daddy is also having lots of fun doing the shopping this year.
I'm going to take a couple hours to sulk and feel bad for myself. Then, I'm going to flip the script, and decide what X and I WILL be doing. Starting tomorrow, it's decorating and Christmas movie time.
Plan your course of action if you’re going out in the am. If not, remember to do whatever you enjoy doing.
Baldies' Blog began originally in the UK by a 26 year old journalist with a blood cancer on a mission to inform the world about bone marrow donation.
He has since died, and I took on the cause of making cancer care more transparent for everybody.
Cancer is a disease that will touch everybody through diagnosis or affiliation: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed and 1 in 3 woman will hear those words, "You Have Cancer."
I invite you to read how I feel along my journey and
how I am continuing to live a full life alongside my Hodgkin's lymphoma, with me controlling my cancer, not my cancer controlling me.
I hope that "Baldies' Blog" will prepare you to handle whatever life sends you, but especially if it's the message, "You Have Cancer."