New directions

Some days it's better not to get out of bed, I swear. Wednesday of this week was like that. I had an appointment to see my surgeon, the gorgeous Dr A.S. with the wry sense of humour, for my first year checkup. I was nervous as hell and Sue came down from the Blue Mountains to come with me.

The first thing that happened was that I had trouble finding the car park, and when I did, the car kissed the bumper on the car park wall and now there are big white spotches on its pristine red body.

Next, we go up to the surgery and the receptionist looks at me like I was an idiot. 'No, the doctor is not here, he is in surgery today. He was here yesterday.'

Well, really! These doctors have so many offices and one hand doesn't seem to know what the other is doing. Why give me an appointment when the guy is not there. I know, to err is human, but why with me at this time? All that worry for nothing! Now I can start worrying again when I go there the next time.

Well, maybe not. Maybe my stupid psyche will behave itself and I will behave like an adult and not a spoilt brat. I've started with my wonderful counselor, Angela, again, and just about in time for all the things that are going on.

January 1, 2008 is the date I become pensionable age in Australia. I had no intention of retiring yet. I figured I'd keep on trucking as per now until I am ready. Not so easy. I survived last year on unemployment and dipping into my savings. When I returned from the US, I was ready to start work and 'get back to normal'. Well, I can't. After the first of January I can either go on the Pension, or starve, but not have the safety net that I had this past year. I am sure it makes sense from a bureaucratic standpoint, but in my present situation it's exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time.

It's really impossible for me to 'get back to normal', and that is really giving me a hard time. I do believe that the mental recovery from this cancer thing is almost worst than the physical one.

The human body and mind is amazing. I really can't remember now just how awful last year was. Angela assured me that it was horrific and when I told Sue, she agreed. "I remember how awful it was for you," she said.

I guess recovery means moving on and not dwelling on the awfulness of the experience. But just a little thing like a botched appointment can upset the applecart and one has to step back and look at it to understand what the hell is going on. God! This is too complicated!

Mammogram blues

To read or not to read, that is the question. Do I really want to know what the mammogram shows? Am I brave enough to read the mammogram on my own? Questions, questions. Putting my head in the sand seems like the wisest option. The reason is that I still have a week to go before I see the surgeon. If there's a problem, it would be unbearable. If there is no problem, I'd be sky high and would have to come down to earth if the surgeon says something negative. So, I think from the point of view of sanity preservation for the next week, the best option is to ignore the envelope and get on with life. Actually, I am really busy, so it wouldn't be too hard.

One thing I am learning during this journey is that it's always good to discuss things with friends or people in the know.
So, when my friend Sue arrived I told her that I made up my mind not to read the mammogram results. She thought I was quite mad. "I couldn't stand not knowing," she laughed, at which point I saw the error of my ways, opened the envelope and..... HOORAY..... everything looks OK.

The only problem I now have is a contact dermatitis I seem to have acquired since the mammogram. Hmmmmmm.............. Was it the dirt on the machine, the pressure, or an unwanted manifestation of nerves? Can't even begin to be bothered to figure it out. I'll put some lotion on it and let the body sort itself out. It always does – one way or another. Maybe a bit more qigong will do the trick.

Chemo brain blues

I have been going through one of the most difficult periods of this whole journey so far, so please excuse my silence. No, nothing hurts. I am feeling fine, except the pain in my feet. I have lost the 10kgs (22 pounds for those who don't know) I gained during the treatment and am determined to lose many more. I look good and feel better every day. So, what's the problem? Chemo brain, that's what.

It's the most insidious thing I have ever experienced in my life. I knew my brain wasn't working when I had the chemotherapy, and when I forgot things and couldn't concentrate on heavy reading. I remember I decided to use the free time I had to improve my knowledge of one of my softwares, but as I was reading the handbook it dawned on me that, while I was reading the words, nothing went in the brain. That was my first conscious recognition that I had a serious problem somewhere.

That was 3-4 months ago. Since then I had that wonderful holiday in the States with Tunde, the family and all my old friends and on my return I felt like a new woman. I was hot to trot.

So, I went back to my old life. I have two homestay students, I do some temping work for the NSW Health Department doing phone surveys and I am working on a freelance application story for a multinational company. Amazing, isn't it? Yes it would be if everything went according to plan, but it ain't.

The students are lovely and the phone interviewing, while more tiring than expected, is fine too. It's the freelance story that I am having terrible difficulties with.

When I interviewed the scientists, I realised I lost part of what they were saying as they were saying it. Normally, I am a very good interviewer, but when I played back these interviews to transcribe I felt embarassed by how stupid I sounded as I flaundered from question to question.

No matter, I did my research and read everything, and prepared to write. The problem was that each time I sat down I forgot the technical details of the project. I forgot names of products, institutions and relationships. I couldn't put the story together. I spent hours on the first three introductory paragraphs, just to take my mind off my frustration.

A couple of days on, I have two beautiful paragraphs (down from three), a story outline and no idea how I am going to finish this thing by Monday (it's Saturday now).

This is not like me at all. Normally, I would have had this story done a week ago. It's not difficult, I used to do these routinely when I was editing Electrical Engineer magazine.

In my frustration, I turned to the internet and googled up 'chemo brain'.

It's called 'post-chemotherapy cognitive impairment', and apparently affects 20-30 per cent of people who had chemotherapy. Recent studies have shown that this effect is real and measurable. The chemo shrinks the brain and the effects can persist for up to 10 years!!! (give me a break!), but a Japanese study found that for most people the they are reversible after about 1-2 years.(Great!)

Well, this isn't going to help me with my current predicament, but I had an idea about how to sideline this handicap for this instance. For the near future I will have to stop writing freelance stories.

It's the darnest thing: I can edit, I can organise, write this blog and fiction stories, but I can't piece technical information into a coherent narrative. Very interesting, but I wish it would happen to someone else! (sigh)

(I put up a link to Chemo Brain on Google, check it out)