Complicated: an addendum

Complikated is what I named this blog, because it’s life, and it’s me. It’s everything, really; nothing is ever simple, or what it seems.

Complicated now perfectly describes my mind’s relationship with my body. Am I strong or weak? Did I survive or surrender? Am I young or old? And does any of it matter?

It seems like this setback is about a miscarriage – although can I even call it that? I was three days attached to an idea, I’m not sure if that even qualifies. But that could just be me selling myself short, as I always do – my births don’t count because they were C-sections, my breast cancer doesn’t count because I only needed a lumpectomy and am now cancer-free. That latter is a topic for another blog, though, so let me return to the topic at hand. This is and isn’t about a lost pregnancy, or the idea of a lost pregnancy. That is what put me here, back inside a dark space, groping for answers that don’t seem to exist. I am grieving, yes, because as stupid as we knew it was, we were making plans. But that’s not the whole of it. Not nearly.

I am living inside a body I no longer feel connected to and that I do not understand. Before cancer, my period came reliably – every 26 days before birth control, every 28 days after. It was the same period every month, light, then heavier, then a day of nothing, then a final day. My skin always broke out the week before. I always thought I looked thinner when it was over. It only disappeared when I was pregnant and came back soon (too soon) after I was not. I knew the cramps. I knew the mood swings. I knew my body and what it was doing.

Then cancer. Why? Who can say. Too much milk as a kid. Years of birth control. Eighteen years of second hand smoke. Adverse Childhood Experiences.  A gene they have yet to identify. Dumb luck. But suddenly my body was a stranger. Some part of me had turned against itself and I didn’t know why or how. And to treat it, I had to abuse myself, first with surgery, then with poison, then with more poison. I had to make decisions based on data, not on what my body was telling me, because I could no longer trust my body. I COULD NO LONGER TRUST MY BODY. This body that has walked me through 39 years, two marriages, three pregnancies, two children, life, love, depression – it had been keeping secrets from me and I could no longer believe what it had to say. I could no longer assume fresh air and plenty of vegetables and walks in the woods were enough. I had to take up arms against my own body, and so I did.

I think I knew all the possible long-term effects. No, that’s not true, I didn’t. I didn’t know about tendinitis and IBS, two issues that now plague me post-chemo. I did know about the fertility issues, but I think I didn’t believe. So reliable, my period. Besides that ruptured tube, my fertility was a given. It was never could we have a third child; no, we were so naive, so oblivious to our privilege – it was would we, as in, did we want to. As though it would happen based upon our whims. As though we could control it. Even before chemo. Even after.

I feel myself growing long-winded and obscure now, so I will just stop meandering and get to the meat of the issue, which is that this is one more indication that my body still operates on a separate plane from my mind, that it is still unreliable and untrustworthy, a cage I now feel trapped in instead of a vehicle my spirit is at one with. Somehow my butterfly of a heart got it into its head that it was free, and in so doing, bashed itself against the walls of its cage until its wings were broken and the cage floor covered in dust. And so it is about the miscarriage, of course, but only because it brought my mind back down to earth, reminded it of who is in charge, that it should expect nothing joyous anymore from this deceptive shell.

I know this is dark, and I feel the need to apologize for that, but as I said, this has cast me back to a dark place. A slap across the face to bring me back to the reality of my situation, which is that I have survived, but only just, and that I cannot count on anything.

I’m okay!

Okay first a short bit of clarification.

It’s not like I am desperate to have a baby – that’s not what all the tears were about yesterday. I have two awesome babies – I am luckier than many! But we definitely were seriously considering another baby, and it just sucks to have that choice taken away. When my period came back that one time in June, I honestly thought, “Wait, maybe I don’t want another baby!” I just want to have the choice.

Much of the sadness/anger revolves around not the reproductive side of menopause, but the physical side. I have hot flashes constantly, and they’re miserable. They’re made worse by alcohol, so even a glass of wine can set them off. I have sore hips and a stiff back. My skin breaks out. I’m bloated and irritable. my hands are swollen and stiff every morning. I am forgetful. These are all menopause symptoms. I had hoped my hormone test would come back on the pre-menopausal side, so I could look forward to these annoyances tapering off. Instead, I’m still in the middle of menopause, which means I could be dealing with this stuff for a long time yet to come – years, even.

Anyhow, I talked to Dr. K last night and really there was nothing new – my numbers look bad for my period right now, but he says they can’t predict what will happen over the next four months (end of March is one year from the end of chemo). He says he has 75 year-old women with lower estradiol than mine, so it’s just a question mark right now. In three months he’ll test my blood again and see what the numbers are. Until then, I continue to wait.

But I’m okay. I’m great, actually. I have an amazing family and an awesome life and wonderful, supportive friends. And I’m alive and cancer free, so for now I’m just going to suck it up and deal with the little physical set backs and hope for better days ahead with regard to that!

Hormones and Grief (Video)

A 5-minute video about what’s going on with me. Apologize for the mood and for not just typing it instead – just don’t have it in me to type this up right now. If this doesn’t work, I also uploaded it as unlisted on YouTube: https://youtu.be/Ap5svJsM6V0

I also want to add that it’s not just the baby thing that is upsetting me. It’s all the physical ailments, which are being ascribed to “hormones,” and have no end in sight. It’s going through menopause before my time, before I’m even forty. It’s feeling cheated and old and helpless. It’s everything.