Week 1: Cold Hands and a New Addition
Well, week one down. Week one is the scariest, because you don't know what to expect, it’s looonnnggg, and you spend the whole time bracing for a bad reaction. Oh, and freezing your ass off, I will definitely be more prepared next time. Yes, part of this fun involves strapping ice packs to your head, your hands, and your feet like you're some kind of budget action figure. Apparently it helps save some hair and keep neuropathy at bay. WTF. I looked like an absolute lunatic, I asked my husband if I was being punked. He didn't fawn over me, which I appreciate, nothing sends me up a wall faster than being fussed over. It went fine. No reactions. We just drove home more emotionally wrung out than physically.
My teenager asked if I was radioactive now. My sister-in-law pointed out that Spiderman got bit by a radioactive spider, so really, this could go well for me (and the world). She also provided her version of prayer for me, several God jokes, like "Q: How does Moses make his coffee? A: He brews it," love it. That's the support I like!
The Uneventful, Bizarre Middle
I went back and looked at Week 1 from last summer. The theme was things happening organically, staying open, just listening. I probably should've reread that before this week instead of after, because it's been a full week since my first therapy session, and the next one is tomorrow.
Health-wise: nothing. Genuinely uneventful. I did my usual thing, including moving furniture up a flight of stairs, which in hindsight was maybe not my best call — but they did say to live life normally, so I'm taking that at face value until someone (including my body) tells me otherwise. Of course, we got 11 more weeks to go soooo…. who knows? Oh, and then there are more things to do, over all, if all goes exactly as planned, the SHORTEST this little journey of preventing recurrence will be a YEAR! Yeah yeah, better than dead, but still, I was fine. It’s like paying for your car breaking down, so frustrating because you had a working car then one day you have to shell out $1000s of dollars for..thats right… a working car! Enough pity party. I really need to just incorporate this into life and not focus on it, you know? I've been through hard stuff before, stuff that left me sobbing on a nightly basis, this isn’t actually that bad, it’s more because I know the length of it, which those other times I didn’t, I just lived day to day.
The Blessing That Put Things in Their Place
So, here's the actual headline of the week: our fifteen-year-old's adoption was finalized. We are, officially, legally, parents!
And when that's what's sitting in your week, a little old therapy session has no business hogging the spotlight. Which, I've decided, is the actual blessing, not "look how much good balanced out the bad," more like a smack upside the head that says: this thing does not get to be the main character. Minimize it. Deal with it on the days it needs dealing with, and the rest of the time, go be you. I could get used to a universe that hands me perspective instead of sympathy cards.
Life at our house is chaotic and full and always mid-project, there's the never-ending kitchen cleaning, there's kids, there's a husband asking why the couch is now in the hallway (kidding, he doesn’t ask anymore) and I'm going to have to work at not letting these three months slide by on autopilot. :/
Last summer, connection showed up everywhere I turned — strangers at trampoline parks, neighbors on porches, entire conversations about death and history I never planned for. This year, the treatment room itself isn't built for any of that. No chatting, no meeting anyone else going through the same thing. I was hoping for that. So it looks like this year, the noticing has to happen somewhere else inside instead of out in the world. Different room, same practice of paying attention.
Looking Forward
Next week: still chasing the job I actually want, and still building the app. Once the prototype's in decent shape, I'll send a link if you're curious.
See you next week.