Pain

Port pain is finally on the mend. Took off the plastic tape/bandage (giant plastic sticky seal they put over the whole area) and that I think actually helped a lot. Judging by how red my skin was once it was off… and the better range of motion I have… I think the tautness (and the fact that my skin HATES that stuff) may have been contributing to a lot of the discomfort.

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Ra’s advice about alternating the norco (thank GOD I had some leftover 5-500) with the ibuprofen seems to be helping too… and at her demand, I’ve been taking it a lot easier than I was originally inclined to. Which has meant getting a lot of rest and staying fairly immobile as much as I can stand. And staying home, quiet too. Thank god for best friends who are in med school.

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Other than that… Radiation and Chemo start next week. Nervous. More nervous than I care to admit really. Throughout all of this treatment itself has felt very… theoretical to me. The fact that I have a port for chemo, and markers for radiation, and stickers for lining up the radiation and starting appointments is making it all so much more real. I’ll be honest- I’m having a hard time accepting it all- dealing with it.

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I keep joking with Kris whenever we go up to UT… “It’s not too late to head for Aruba.” I know this was the right decision, and I know my treatment choice is the best for me for my Cancer… but there is still this piece of the OLD me- the broken one, the one who couldn’t face anything- deep inside that keeps screaming, “RUN.”

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I guess I should probably make another therapy appointment for next week or the week after. But I don’t know what to say. And I don’t know what I’d need her to say. Half the time I think I want people to tell me everything will be fine, and not to worry, and it’s going to be ok. And half the time I think I’ll scream if someone doesn’t just come out and say, “this sucks and you shouldn’t have to do this and it’s not fair.” And then… on top of all of it I don’t want people to say anything at all. And everything everyone says is wrong and stupid and none of it makes me feel any better… except that people reaching out to me in love does make me feel better- even if their specific words don’t.

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I was supposed to remove that bandage and shower today but I got too scared. I took the bandage off but never made it to the shower. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who was afraid of physical pain. All those years of cutting and now I’m afraid of pain. Ironic.

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:sigh: Sometimes when I sit and think about everything I feel so old. And sometimes it makes me feel so young, immature, unprepared. I want to put so much of what I talk about here on FB but I don’t. Because young, old, whatever— I still feel like I need to protect the people I love from the full force of what I’m feeling about all of this. Isn’t it enough that I’m scared and sad and anxious without everyone else having to deal with that too— when they’re dealing with their own scared and sad and anxious about it all already?

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My therapist would slap my wrist for that (metaphorically of course). She’d say I should trust people to set their own boundaries, and that I should go with my instinct to reach out and let people in so they can help me, soothe me, support me.

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She’d say that I need to stop worrying so much about other people and start focusing on what I need from them in order to make it through all of this. She’d tell me it’s time to be a little bit selfish.

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I’ve never been very good at that though. Putting myself first. But maybe she’s right to an extent. Maybe I need to be asking more and setting my OWN boundaries. People can’t give me what I need if I don’t tell them right?

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I guess the real problem is… it’s easier to try and protect everyone else than to try and figure out what it is that I really need.