Blame it on the cancer, or not

 Friday, I was bad...really, really bad. I don't usually do things like that. The people who know me well know I'm pretty laid back and easy going - that is, until I've reached my limit. 

My mother always said I was a powder keg, waiting to explode. And I was, but I didn't know it. 

I would take and take and take letting things build up slowly and gradually without realizing the ensuing damage until it was too late. And once the dam burst, there was no holding back. All the ugliness and bitter hatred would spew forth. 

That was me on Friday. 

We'd ordered a replacement window for our kitchen. The order had been placed in July and we'd been promised it would be in within 2 weeks. When the deadline came, we called the salesman to arrange pickup only to be told the window wasn't in. They're been a delay. We were told it'd be another 2 weeks, so we waited. 

That deadline came and went too. We waited another month, calling to check on the window every 2 weeks only to be told the same story. 

Finally, we got the call to come pick up the window which we did. When we got home, we found out it the window was the wrong color. We'd ordered almond. The one received was white. Immediately, we called and reported the error to the salesman. He did not apologize but said he'd reorder the window and it should be in within, you guessed it, 2 weeks. Well, it wasn't. 

Time ticked away and the calls, emails, and texts to the salesman didn't prove fruitful. We kept being promised deadlines only to have them pass without product. 

Friday, I'd had enough. I called the salesman and told him we were fed up. Either he could give us our money back or have the correct window ready for us to pickup on Wednesday of this week. I'm loaded for bear! 

My husband said I shouldn't have been so demanding. I told him we've waited long enough and we've been as patient and understanding as possible. I'm done. 

If Mama were still alive, she'd have said I was pretty ugly to that guy on the phone, that's okay. He deserved it. 

I'm hoping Wednesday we'll have our new window in the almond color we originally ordered. If not, I'm not going to be a happy camper. I may just take this white window and whack that guy over the head with it. Maybe I should take a sedative before we go over to the building supply place that day, or not...

If I was still in active treatment for cancer, I'd play the cancer card. I'm sure it would have worked to get the window for us faster. That's one thing about the cancer card, it worked wonders and for some, it still does. I try not to play it any more because I'm trying to do the right thing, but I sure would like to, especially in situations like this.

Preparing for the Sneak Attack

 My husband and I like to watch good movies, especially ones with interesting plots. Recently, we watched a movie about soldiers on a secret mission. It was a nail biter. Sitting on the edge of my seat, I wondered at every scene, what would happen next. 

As one of the main characters in the movie wandered through enemy territory, you could feel the tension rising knowing danger lurked at every corner. Just as we thought he was going to make his way out unscathed, bullets ripped through the air tearing through his camouflaged material and lodging deeply in his chest. For the next few minutes, we wondered if he would live or die. Surely, they'd keep him alive to continue the story line, right?! Thankfully they did. 

Many of my friends know I've been working on writing a book about my breast cancer journey. It's been a long, tedious process. Reliving memories has made me feel like a soldier returning to previously conquered enemy territory. It's felt ominous and oppressive. 

But even though it's been challenging, I've slogged on. I am determined to finish my mission by year's end. This is a personal goal so I push through. 

Today, as I was writing, I wondered why I feel so compelled to write the story of my journey. Will it matter, one way or the other, if anyone reads what I write? Probably not. Will it be beneficial in helping someone else on their own cancer journey? I hope it will, but who knows. So why write? 

Perhaps it's to smother past demons that lurk in the dark shadows of my mind. Maybe exposing them will help with my own healing. But can I ever be truly healed from the trauma of breast cancer? I'd like to answer a resounding yes, but I'm just not sure. 

What I do know is this, time is said to heal all wounds. If that's so, and I've just recently passed the 6 year mark, I should be well on the way to becoming whole again, but then again, maybe I'm not supposed to return to my old normal. 

I hate the phrase new normal. It's popular among the pink sisterhood, but I don't like it. Nothing is ever really normal anyway, is it? I mean, day to day, everything changes. Nothing remains the same. 

So maybe writing the book is only cathartic for me. Maybe I'll complete it and then hit the delete button after I'm done, who knows. 

I'm usually not a wishy washy person but today, I feel that way. I wish I could be more positive, like a friend of mine who's dying of stage 4 cancer right now. No matter what she goes through, she smiles. I don't know how she does it. 

I've always tried to be a Pollyanna. My rose colored glasses have always been perched tightly on my nose but today, they're sliding. I keep reaching up to push them back in place. 

Maybe I need a little encouragement and motivation, or maybe a swift kick in the rear! 

Now that I've vented, I'll return to writing, for a little while, anyway.

Some days you just want to give up

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to...

Today has been a really rough day for me. It didn't start out that way, in fact, I had a lot of energy earlier in the day and did all of my housework including mopping the floors. I was on a roll, or so I thought and then around 5:30 p.m. my arms had become so swollen and achy.  I performed the manual lymphatic drainage like I'd been taught by the therapist but it didn't seem to help. I was so frustrated and upset as I realized this is a life long condition. I will NEVER be able to be rid of it and that's when I started bawling my eyes out. My sweet husband came to the rescue and held me in his arms and let me just continue crying. I told him how horrible I felt and that I wished it would just go away. He tried to empathize with me and I told him he had no idea how I really felt. As I explained the heaviness and tightness from the lymphedema, he said, "I know honey. I can see the swelling. I see it every day." Right after he said that I lost it. I just had to go into another room and be by myself.

I cried out to God and asked why...why did I have to go through this mess in the first place. I'd asked Him many, many times in the past and I know He's probably tired of hearing me keep on asking but you know what, the Bible says we are to ask and keep on asking. Now, I'm sure it doesn't specifically apply to situations like mine but I just want to know why He allowed me to go through cancer and why He allowed me to develop complications from it.

Some days you just want to give up and ride off into the sunset. I am tired of fighting and I know, this day will pass and these feelings will pass but right now...right at this very moment, I just wish I could go back to my pre-cancer days. Life was so much easier back then and I felt human. I don't feel human much any more. I feel like a freak in a side show...the lady with the big, fat arms and no boobs...come see her! You can pay a quarter to see the freak! But no one would even want to pay a quarter to see this freak, I assure you.

So yes, today I'm having a big old pity party. I didn't plan it, it was actually a surprise pity party. It just kind of snuck up on me and hit me in the head like a big rubber mallet. KA BLAM! Yeah. Feeling worthless sucks but that's how I'm feeling right now. I know it's a lie straight from hell because God says I am worthy because He is worthy so I guess I'd better suck it up and deal with it.

My arms hurt so much and I feel so ashamed. I don't want to go anywhere or see anyone...the freak in the side show, yep, that's me.

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