21 September 2007

In Other News


"The jungle is dark but full of diamonds," ~ Arthur Miller

I suspect you're just as tired hearing about my cancer travails as I am of talking about them and dealing with them. So let's take a little break.

News on the office front:

Loathsome:

Yesterday Loathsome dropped by my office to tell me his computer isn't working. I am not the IT person in the office and, even though IT Boy was out, I didn't offer to take a look to see if I could help. I get calls from co-workers regularly (when I'm here), soliciting computer help. They still haven't figured out that I know next to nothing about it. I experiment.

Of course, he launched into a recitation of his own physical maladies. I'm empathetic, but at the moment, I'm busy with my own.

Loathsome explained that his ongoing battle with pain (some back ailment and cartilage deterioration in his wrists) is taking a toll on his relationships. I know what that means. It means his wife (who's hated him for as long as I've known him) has resumed hating him now that they've had to share the same house for several months. (He was Our Man in the Out of State Office for several years and she continued to live here.) She's calling him an asshole a lot. He is an asshole, but here's a thought: Move out.

Foot Lady :

I ran into her on my way out of the office on Wednesday. I was holding back tears during the conversation because I had a migraine and the usual pain/fatigue from surgery recovery. I kept telling her that I had to go because of my pain level. Did that stop her? Well, no. On the up side, she did not plop either one of her feet on nearest flat surface and make me look while she waxed whiny on herpodiatry issues. You have to count your blessings. A foot would have been more than I could bear.

Work, work, work

Aside from my discussions with co-workers (which I haven't done justice to, unfortunately), I've been working hard while I have the intellectual focus. Mental clarity is in short supply these days, so I cram in a lot of work in a short period of time.

Yes, boys and girls, it's a new database. It's breathtakingly complex or it just seems that way because the brain isn't functioning at top capacity. Every morning, I come in at seven and wonder why there are glitches in the program. Then I try to find a way to work around them. Normally, I would enjoy the challenge. Now it's just irritating.

I rolled out the workers' comp insurance just in time for somebody to get hurt yesterday. I was filling out forms and sending letters most of the morning. I've had issues with the insurance provider's online reporting system; it wasn't working for a while. At all. I called tech support (in another city). The guy told me that there are diamond icons that light up when you've finished providing all of the necessary information. When you've completed that section, you move onto another. All was going well until I hit "submit." Nothing happend. Tech guy made me double check my icons. You know, I can tell when I've filled in every blank...and I had. My diamonds were fully lit. He suggested I call a more knowledgeable tech person in their company.

She called me back during the lunch hour. That's the oldest dodge in the world and one that I've been forced to use before when I used to have to interact regularly with The Oatmeal Lady, an employee of one of our clients. Another story, another time. Tech Lady wanted to know (in her voice mail message) if my diamonds were lit up. My poor mom had to listen to me ranting and raving about her all the way to Houston the last time we were there. Now, all I have to say is "diamonds" and my mom starts laughing.

Time is up.

I've run out of time and have to leave for therapy. God knows I need it. Monday, I see my psychiatrist. I predict lots of "diamond" talk with both of them.

19 September 2007

Fabric of the Cosmos


New book: Fabric of the Cosmos: Space, Time and the Texture of Reality, Brian Greene.

Ten (or eleven) dimensions: nine (or ten) or space and one of time. The reality we see and feel isn't reality at all. I don't know. I always read this sort of thing when I'm feeling relentlessly down, physically, mentally and emotionally.

Not for the faint of mental focus, though. I do lots of backtracking.

18 September 2007

It Goes On


"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." ~ Mark Twain

It dawned on me a couple of nights ago that things may never be the same. The swelling in the new girl had finally gone down a bit and I was able to feel a ridge running underneath it. It's like having an underwire bra under the skin. That may theoretically seem like a good thing, but it's not.

Everyone I know who's had reconstruction surgery has always told me that, in the end, no one will know that the "breast" I end up with isn't a breast at all. No one, they told me, will even know I had breast cancer unless I choose to tell them. I sort of had my heart set on it. Of course, I also had my heart set on everything being finished a year ago, but this is a lot harder to accept. I've gone through so much to make that outcome possible when it may not be, after all.

The problem is definitely radiation and possibly, to some extent, my body's tendency to create massive amounts of scar tissue. I heal quickly, but thick ridges of scars form almost immediately. Radiation caused a lot of tissue necrosis. There was a lot of radiation because of the wide-spread nature of the cancer (which wasn't a tumor) and the fact that it came so close to the chest wall and my neck. Once tissue is irradiated, it gets very hard.

When I was at M.D. Anderson a couple of weeks ago, I talked with a young woman while we waited to give blood. She had exactly the same conditions as I had and the doctors weren't enthusiastic about even trying to do reconstruction surgery on her. It was the memory of my conversation with her that clarified my own dire straits.

Dr. Kronowitz did an excellent job of cutting some of that necrotic tissue and scar tissue out, but there's still some there. Maybe there always will be. I thought about calling him last week when I had this epiphany, but then I decided that I might not be able to stand the answer. Not yet.

I was devastated last week. Today, I'm emotionally numb. I can only feel that bad for a limited period of time. Plus, I'm still exhausted and in pain from the surgery a couple of weeks ago. This is no time to obsess about visual wholeness.

Next week, a new round of medical appointments begins. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist (whom I'm probably going to try to fire because she's more than I can afford) and a blood check/medical oncologist visit. The next week is my annual physical and a trip to my dentist.

I'm not a human being anymore. I'm just a series of medical events.