I Wanted to Write about Chemo Brain, But I Kept Forgetting (And Other Short Stories)

Often, my husband looks at me and asks, "Where are you?"  My usual response is, "Have you seen Gloria Estefan's hair lately?" which is the punchline to a hilarious Ellen Degeneres schtick about daydreaming.

But really, I don't know where I am.   For a long time, I have been in a persistent dreamlike state, usually content to sit and stare.  I rarely talk, except when spoken to, and entire days go by that I couldn't tell you anything about.  And if I could, it would probably be a pretty boring story.  This has probably contributed in large part to my sporadic (putting it lightly) posting on this blog.  I write a few paragraphs on something, and quickly lose interest.

I have always blamed chemo brain for my forgetfulness and short attention span, for things like leaving the water run for hours and spacing out on plans.  But this is a much deeper, more pervasive issue.  Nothing interests me, and nothing really bores me, either.

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That's where I lost focus a month ago and stopped writing a post about not having focus.  I have a purse full of notebook pages half full of similar potential discussions.  I try so hard to just concentrate, to just finish something, but I always end up realizing that not only do I have no idea of where this train of thought is going, but I also don't have a particular desire to find out.

But the fact is, I can't just drift through life when this is a life I suffered so much to prolong.  So I will finish something, even if it sucks.  And you will listen, even if it's boring.  And with this decree, I shall clear out my purse and dust the monkey off my back by typing up all my scribbles from the past few months.

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"The House That Cancer Built"

A single tooth is ruining my life.

I don't say that lightly.  Please recall that I am a person that has experienced nerve pain, bone pain, sharp pain, shooting pain, aching pain, burning pain, cramps, arthritis, shingles, a broken arm, and one incidence of internal hemorrhaging.  But a toothache, my god, is there any crueler fate?

I took solace for a brief moment thinking, at least this doesn't have anything to do with cancer, it is just a normal thing that everybody deals with.  But.  After cancer, does anything really happen independently of cancer ever again?  If I didn't have cancer, I wouldn't have had chemo.  If I hadn't had chemo, 60% of my teeth wouldn't have rotted out.  If my teeth hadn't rotted out, I wouldn't have had to have my back tooth extracted.  If I hadn't had my back tooth extracted, a space wouldn't have opened up for my impacted wisdom tooth to move down.  And if one of my wisdom teeth wasn't coming in, I wouldn't want to shoot myself in the head just to relieve the pressure. 

My dentist wouldn't prescribe anything but alternating Tylenol and Advil every two hours, so I did what anyone in my position would do.  I switched to a young, inexperienced dentist and yelled at him until he prescribed me Vicodin.  Thank you, cancer, for teaching me how to browbeat green medical professionals.

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Wadsworth Is Sending Me Emails - Or Is It Emerson I'm Thinking Of?

I am sensing a shift in the mood of my spam emails.  Instead of the usual penile enhancers and pleas from deposed African leaders, I am now receiving approximately 20-25 emails per day where the subject line is simply two words retrieved from some kind of random generator.  At first I deleted them without notice, but now I see that they are almost poetic in their strangeness.  Here are some recent highlights:

milliner bagpipes
corsage favorable
rankle disregard
Boy Scout border
coveralls satisfaction
sinister townhouse
chide craftsman
And my favorite...
witch hunt chaperone

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The One Where You Actually Get Some Information Regarding My Life - And Kudos on Reading All the Way to This Point!

In any group of friends, there are two important couples: the first ones to get married, and the second ones to get married.  The role of the first ones to get married is to blaze through all life's important milestones at a lightning-fast pace, and then use their First-Ones clout to manipulate or otherwise coerce the Second Ones to follow suit.

My husband and I are the Second Ones.  He actually proposed to me after helping the First Ones, hereafter known as the McBabysons, paint their condo.  Now, I know my husband loves me, but I'm equally sure that the proposal was a mix of genuine love, paint fumes, exhaustion from forced manual labor, and transparent "Think how much fun we'll have as a foursome" comments.

The McBabysons, shockingly, just had a baby.  More accurately, they decided they wanted a baby, announced the pregnancy two weeks later, and then came baby 9.0 uneventful months after that.  And really, their daughter is a doll, and I couldn't be happier for them.  But I hung back for a while, partly because I knew they were busy and tired and covered in throw up, so they wouldn't be up for company, and partly because I was a little sour at how easily they conceived (There, I admitted it to you, Internet.  Even though at my most optimistic, I could only be described as "on the fence" about babies, it was jealousy on principle alone.  So sue me.)

Anyway, the time finally came to quit being a baby and go see the McBabysons.  I baked their favorite cake, and we headed up to what we both knew would be a full-on propaganda campaign titled, Why You Guys Should Totally Have a Baby.  Because, as the first ones, that's their job.

And let me tell you, we were not disappointed.  I held the baby for approximately 95% of the visit (I was allowed a potty break... mine, not hers) while I was indoctrinated on How Rewarding Motherhood Is and How Complete a Baby Makes You Feel.  Mr. McBabyson also played the man-to-man angle with Husband, describing the joys of huge boobs, rediscovering naps and toys, and throwing young children in the air. 

And goddammit if it didn't work.  We were brainwashed.  I know it worked on my husband because he opened up a savings account and looked vaguely disappointed while leering at my chest.  I know it worked on me because I called off work and spent the day in bed crying. 

A few days later Mrs. McBabyson called me to apologize "if we put the pressure on too hard."  She explained, "I just figured that with everything your body has been through, you might not have much time."  Now, before you whip out the fangs and start calling her an evil bitchwhore, bear in mind she was just saying "I want you to have everything in life that you want," in the soul-crushingly brutal way only a good girlfriend or your mother can.  Plus, she's right.  My gyn-onc has previously told me that due to "poor hormone regulation, trauma, and scar tissue, I would not wait too terribly long if IVF is something you want to pursue," in the infuriatingly vague way only a physician can. 

That was a year and a half ago.  I don't know what the medical definition of too terribly long is, but I'm guessing it's about half past Move Your Ass. 

So.

I made a consultation with a reproductive endocrinologist to see what we might be up against.

A consultation.

I repeat, only a consultation.

The problem is, they didn't have any openings for Move Your Ass, they could only squeeze me in on the 15th of I Could Have Adopted a Kid by Then.  So now I wait with the pressure building on all sides and my insides, hoping it is not just the propaganda that is making me hope this works*.

* At some indeterminate point as far into the future as my partially shriveled uterus will allow.  Please review comments on this only being a consultation.

Comments

[Noelle]

Still think of you often and hope you're doing well... i'm really glad you informed us (me, really) of the First Ones and the Second Ones, I was previously unaware of that whole set up. (If I lived in Pittsburgh, I probably would already be the Second Ones. Lucky for me, people in Seattle marry much later. I have time to prepare.)

Good luck with the consultation that is only a consultation. And here's to writing-something-all-the-way-to-the-end-DAMMIT, you have achieved something I've been unable to for months.

[Noelle]

Still think of you often and hope you're doing well... i'm really glad you informed us (me, really) of the First Ones and the Second Ones, I was previously unaware of that whole set up. (If I lived in Pittsburgh, I probably would already be the Second Ones. Lucky for me, people in Seattle marry much later. I have time to prepare.)

Good luck with the consultation that is only a consultation. And here's to writing-something-all-the-way-to-the-end-DAMMIT, you have achieved something I've been unable to for months.

[Beth]

I read your blog and I think you are fabulous. I'm so glad you are posting again. I'm not sure how I found your blog but glad I did!

Good luck! As someone who faced infertility and is now in the looongggg process of adopting a baby you have my thoughts and prayers for success. Husband and I only got as far as IUI and the hormones sucked. But you've been through far worse and I admire your "kick cancer's ass" attitude. With all of that to make you strong I know you will do just fine. Just be prepared for the crappy mood swings - whew!!!

Thank you so much for sharing your story and talent for writing! I know I'm just a stranger here in internet land but I'm keeping watch and wishing you only the best!!

Beth in Virginia

[Maureen McQ]

Hey, I had the staring off into space thing before cancer. It's not a fun way to live life. (At one point I was sleeping between fourteen and sixteen hours a day and weeping over the fact that I couldn't figure out how to fix dinner.) In my case it was depression and two years and a couple of different antidepressant prescriptions later, I had something of a life. I am a veritable font of information on Better Living Through Chemistry (Except For The Parts That Are Annoying) and would be happy to do the email thing if you wanted to ask me anything.

I opted for no baby and have two dogs instead. I talk to them in that annoying way that people with no children talk to their dogs. ('You're such a pretty girl!') It's not the route I would recommend for everyone, though.

[notsure]

Pardon me for saying so, but your friends sound like insensitive Yobs. Harrassing a woman with no ovaries to spawn seems more than little yucky.

But then again, a lot of parents are like rabid sports fans. They don't understand why someone wouldn't want to turn over cars and burn them after their team wins. It's perfectly natural behavior, right?

As someone who has always been lukewarm at best about babies (I'm now 50 with no regrets that I never went past lukewarm) I have only one observation: Ask yourself whether you really want this, or you are just pissed off that your choice was taken away. It's a legitimate question.