<p>Downtoearth: thank you so much for checking up on me. I thank every one of you for your generosity and good will. </p>
<p>Yesterday, I went on a wig shopping. My insurance covers up to $750, so I got two. I got synthetic wigs. I felt it’s creepy to wear someone else’s hair. A friend of mine came with me. She had to go through chemo 6 years ago for her stage 1 breast cancer. So, the moment she heard of my condition, she immediately volunteered to organize a wig shopping date with me. </p>
<p>And, boy, she was a life saver. I had no idea how I was going to feel when I walked into the wig store. Just seeing all this hair on lifeless manikin faces was so depressing, I was emotionally paralyzed. My friend cheered me up, busily walked around the shop, and brought three wigs for me to try, and I ended up buying two of the three she picked. Then she took pictures of me in the wigs, sent the photo mail to my husband. </p>
<p>Later that night, I sent email to her telling her how grateful I was that she was there since I was more or less dazed and emotionally unable to “accomplish the mission”. She then responded “you know, when I went on wig shopping, I cried the whole time they were fitting me with different kinds of wigs”. I understood then why the first thing she offered the moment she heard about my cancer was to organize this wig shopping date. I always loved her and admired her. Now, she earned my loyalty for as long as I can project into the future. I have many vices, but taking other people’s good will for granted has never been one of them. </p>
<p>Today was full of activities. I went to Manhattan to have lunch with my husband, and brought a bouquet of flowers to his office for all of his wonderful colleagues who were very generous and kind (they arranged a meal delivery service that lasted forever). I had an opportunity to personally thank “ring leaders” for this rescue operation. Then I stayed in one of their conference rooms to do some web related work. Had dinner in the city and went to see a Broadway show (Little Night Music: fantastic, highly recommended). Came home close to mid night. A full day indeed and a memorable day before chemo starts tomorrow that will ground me for a while. I get a weekly chemo for 18 weeks at the minimum. There is no margin of error. I certainly won’t run around in public places with the white blood cell count constantly tanking.</p>
<p>In terms of recovery from a surgery, after a bit over 3 weeks, I feel almost fully recovered except for the swollen belly and not being able to do intense 70 minute cardio exercise I used to do religiously every day. Running around all day long and climbing stairs up and down is no problem at all. Sometimes I forget that I had this surgery until I see myself in the mirror and notice an 8 inch vertical incision on my belly. </p>
<p>Yes, tomorrow is the first day of chemo. I am really looking forward to it, not because it’s going to be so fun. But, because I know this is going to help me. I have bulky disease still left around my bowels, and I don’t want to give it anymore time to develop further. </p>
<p>I don’t know where this is going. Though I am realistically optimistic, nobody knows for sure what the future holds. Strange thing is, I don’t see this cancer as a calamity or a monster. Regardless what else it does to me (some bad stuff), it also has done wonders for me in a profoundly positive way. </p>
<p>I have always been self reliant and independent to a fault. I upheld these attributes as an absolute virtue not subject to challenge and questioning. I certainly have worn it like a piece of armor, and used it like a weapon – both offensive and defensive. But, now I realize that this is a form of arrogance. This cancer of mine taught me to lower my guard, and become a bit more porous. </p>
<p>My husband told me in 26 years together, he has never felt so close to me – before, no matter how close and intimate we were emotionally, intellectually, and otherwise, there was this invisible barrier on my part that won’t let him come through all the way. Now, that’s gone, and he is saying he found the experience of coming through to me all the way exhilarating. He says, that’s why he finds taking care of me so rewarding, rather than feeling burdened by it. He says every act of caring for me on his part is amply rewarded thousand folds. </p>
<p>I never realized that I had so many good friends who are coming out of the wood work to help, and I am accepting their help with humility. In the process I learned that my friends who are offering to help actually find it rewarding to be helpful. Before, I was so hung up on not being a burden on other people, I did not realize that many of them actually draw satisfaction from helping. Previously, I considered this a one way street: I can help others as much as I can and will, but I don’t let others help me. In a way, I jealously guarded it (the satisfaction of helping) as a privilege that I won’t share with others. </p>
<p>That’s why I don’t regard this cancer as an unequivocal evil. It has brought forth wonderfully positive changes in me, and I should say “thank you”. My cancer recovery story will not be that of “a hard battle”, “a gory fight”, and “a jingoistic battle cry”. Instead, it will be a story or negotiation, persuasion and acknowledgement. If I were to describe my sentiment toward cancer in an anthropomorphic manner, this is what I would say to it: “You are not evil. You have done some good work, and I appreciate it. However, it’s time for you and me to part ways. Let’s find an amicable way to conclude this affair. Good night and good bye”</p>
<p>Tomorrow will be a long day, and a major milestone for my recovery. When I fall asleep tonight, I will do so feeling profoundly grateful that even with this disease, I have been dealt one hell of a winning hand, and I am a very fortunate woman. No matter what happens, this good thing already happened, and nothing will take that away from me.</p>
<p>All of you on this thread have been wonderful. Thank you, and I really mean it…</p>
In my head reading works well for that, but if I am sick and cannot read and sometimes the noise and light of TV is too much, then I have to find an alternate distraction. After surgery this summer, when I had a really bad horribly nauseated week in bed, I had an ipod with an old favourite book on it and that got me through many long hours.</p>