It has been one month to the day since my last treatment. I am in, what I am told is, recovery mode. I really do not know what that means. To me. I know what that means to my Radiation Oncologist, my Medical Oncologist, my General Practitioner, or even the ER docs... but to me, it is a mysterious phase of existence. It means waiting. I wanted to feel so much better, just because it was done. HA! ( silly, silly girl ) Ooooh, my white count is still so low I can't be around groups of people, my hemoglobin has even gone back down since the transfusion and they don't know why, I was allergic to myself; itching hands and feet every time I had a bowel movement, projectile vomiting - sometimes while in a motor vehicle. Blah blah blah, whine whine whine. I started out not being able to stop pooping to now not being able to poop. (It is all about the poop folks.) Since the surgery in November I have lost over 20 pounds. I would like to say I have been the paragon of a health conscience person and exercised while eating my vegan diet to achieve such results. No. I have pooped, puked and starved through radiation and chemo for those pounds to disappear. Cancer: The Diet. I don't recommend it.
Strangely, I am not mad, too sad or overwhelmingly grumpy. My bunnies are so glad to have me back home every day, their acting out has diminished. Pickle will be one year old this month. Having found him like a lost babe in the woods, I do not know his real birthday, so I am assigning him a date. Valentine's Day. I have never liked the day, actually hating it so much during High School, when all my friends would receive cards, gifts and candy, I passionately called it "Happy Fucking Valentines Day." Now, I will have a reason. My Velveteen Valentine.
I have a lot of things yet to say, yet to share. I have been busy, figuring out how to recover. I imagine recovery takes time. Recovery may also, if done right, give you time.