The Solitude of Childhood

"How is it possible not to feel that there is communication between our solitude as a dreamer and the solitudes of childhood? And it is no accident that, in a tranquil reverie, we often follow the slope which returns us to our childhood solitudes." ~ Gaston Bachelard

I have a dear friend (Hello, C!) who recently suggested to me that two years of breast cancer treatment and reconstruction surgery triggered a recurrence of many Post Traumatic Disorder symptoms. She's a very wise person.

I saw my psychiatrist yesterday, armed with a list of my issues: crying (and crying and crying), nightmares so horrifying that I'm afraid to go to sleep, nearly invisible self esteem, a staggering inability to concentrate, colon pain (the return of IBS). I'm just hitting the high points here; there's no need to enumerate them all. I'm certain you get my point.

Having returned on Friday from a seminar about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, my psychiatrist understood immediately that all of the new breast cancer related physical and emotional trauma reawakened the areas of my brain that store all of my childhood trauma. The brain recognizes the similarity. My friend, C., was right. My PTSD was relatively well-managed for almost ten years (things got out of hand when my dad killed himself), but the symptoms are back with a vengeance.

My ongoing brain fog is at least partly due to that area of my brain that controls cognitive functioning, logical thinking, etc. going on strike, so to speak. I've been attributing it to chemo brain (which I've read can last for up to ten years), but it may have nothing whatsoever to do with chemotherapy.

The nightmares were certainly no mystery. I dream of people chasing me so they can conduct medical experiments on me. I dream of being physically assaulted. (A humorous aside: my most recent assault dream featured some people beating me up with a large wooden penis. I'm guessing that's because my oncology doctors are all men. It wasn't so funny in my dream, though.) Some of the nightmares have clearly hearkened back to specific incidents of childhood abuse, a fact that hadn't occurred to me.

I have new, short-term medication to help me deal with those nightmares. I've been terrified to go to sleep, but last night there were no nightmares.

I've also started taking a very low level of a medication I just weaned myself off of with a great deal of difficulty. It addresses serotonin issues. I'd already guessed that might be part of my problems, but I've been trying hard not to add new medication to my already beleaguered body. If nothing, else, this will address the colon pain. Eliminating any single source of pain can only be helpful at this point. I'll deal with weaning myself from it again when I can. I hope that's in the near future.

Diminished cognitive functioning explains why I've had so much trouble formulating the structure of the database I've been working on forever now. Of course, knowing why doesn't help me be more capable of working faster and thinking clearly. At least I know I haven't gone permanently stupid, though.

Today, I have an appointment with my new medical oncologist/hematologist. No trip to M.D. Anderson this time, which means I won't be quite as tired and stressed as I usually am when regularly scheduled blood tests are required. Had they not taken Dr. Crisofanilli away from me, I would have gone, anyway. The upsurge in patients means they move those of us not actively doing chemo to nurse practitioners. Doesn't it seem like the better solution would be to hire more medical oncologists? Of course, no one asked me.

The saddest part of that situation is that it must mean an upsurge in cancer diagnoses. That means more people, their friends and loved ones will come to understand a new, higher level of suffering than they may have previously known. They will learn to live with a higher level of fear.

As for me, I'm optimistic about my new doctor and about my blood tests. It would be great if I could work in a nap while I wait. I'm trying to work longer hours this week, but today doesn't bode well.