Being able to (try to) move my arm normally is GREAT. It does result in some crazy soreness and frustration but dang. I LOVE moving my arm.
So glad we stocked up on Advil, though. SO GLAD.
In the way of help, I am STILL eating leftovers we froze from my ‘Take Them a Meal’ group. It is so awesome. It’s like they are still bringing us meals. Don’t get me wrong, we HAVE cooked once or twice since they stopped coming. But dang if we have not been stressed just to have the apartment clean. It’s just that clutter tends to stay where it is if I’m cleaning.
Next time you clean, tie an arm behind your back and bend your other knee. Also, NO crutches. It’s kind of a good workout, but it also kind of sucks.
Speaking of such, Two maids and a Mop is here RIGHT NOW.
Cleaning my apartment.
It smells like amazing amounts of awesome germ-free-ness up in here and they just started. It’s incredible.
Whoever decided to start this business that gets companies together to clean for Breast Cancer patients is my new hero.
Sure, a total of 4 cleanings every 4 weeks may not seem like much to some people, but to me it’s a freaking miracle.
If I had clean sheets they said they would even make my bed!
I am in heaven.
They are pure magic and fairy dust.
Enough of that. Let’s get to what I came here for.
I took a bath all by myself yesterday. I think I only missed a few spots. I also dressed myself, but I picked really easy clothes- yoga pants and a huge shirt that wouldn’t require me to defy physics to put it on.
Tomorrow I’m going to try to brush and fix my hair. And today, I’m waiting to find out when I can use my crutches. See, I’m only two steps, physically, from returning to work!
Emotionally, I am occasionally a mess, though. Where did all of these emotions come from?
Yesterday I had a minor change in decision and SERIOUSLY cried like it was the end of the world, while at the same time, I was telling myself how insane that is because I know that the change doesn’t REALLY matter. It really is not a big deal. I just felt like I was going to lose everything; like nothing would be mine anymore.
It wasn’t self pity. It was complete and utter fear.
Why is it so horrible to admit when we are scared? I have always tried to face my fears head on, and I’m really trying with this
fucking breast cancer.
(Some of you may know that the subtitle to my blog, “Run to the Bear”, is a reference to this, inspired by one of my cancer army Lieutenants, Susan, and this ecard. [new discovery: if you google image search, ‘run to the bear’ I come up!])
It is hard. Really Hard.
But I can do hard things.