Radiation continues, and I’m several doses into chemo. The official list of chemo side effects is nauseating, but only a few doses in and I don’t feel anything. We’ll see how long that lasts.
The biggest update is that I started one session of home physical therapy yesterday. The therapist learned I had an assembled rollator walker for five days I had yet to use. She told my Dad that it was to be expected that I’d try to hold on to my independence. It was at this moment, throughout all of this, that I first felt like a patient. I didn’t say anything, she was right. I tested the walker with the therapist and I couldn’t stop laughing, it made everything about a 100 times easier to do. I use it everywhere now; it has changed how I use my apartment entirely, with a seat to rest when I’m moving about.
One thing that is part of this sonic boom experience is that I get to live in this incessant barrage of my idealized self. Both present and past. After one email, I was asked who my pen writer was. Another friend complemented me on how I’m handling this, but he then confided to call him when I just wanted to be a mess. I loved these comments, it reminded me of the sloppy-writer hot-mess I knew myself to be. I hope the residency safeguards all my bad evaluations and strategically sprinkles them when they see fit.
That said, I completely acknowledge that I am in this special brain tumor crystal clarity. I made a painting last week, entirely coordinated by a friend. I just had to put some fingers in paint, which was easy on my right hand, though eventually my left, contracted hand tired out signaling the end of the paint session. We framed and hung the final product, and frankly I’m proud of it. It looks more beautiful to me each day.
This experience, the sonic boom, is at the very least unique. And I feel obligated to share what its like. There is something I want to share with you all, which I know for sure in this brain tumor + high dose steroid clarity.
In my silent, post-radiation and chemo afternoons – I can literally feel everyone’s affection. I now know that what we think, our concern for others, eventually makes it to its intended target. I know.
And so I wonder, how I got so lucky, to lay in my silent afternoons basking in all your affection. Or how I will ever adequately thank you all.