This is what my wig looks like...kind of like my own hair, except not totally even on both sides. I look tired and not so happy. Weird, because I had a great Thanksgiving weekend with my family down in Springfield, MO.
In chemo news: a week and a half ago I switched from Adriamycin and Cytoxan to Taxol, which for me means much less nausea (yay! I don't feel sick all of the time!) and a little more energy. Now that the nausea has receded a bit, however, my expanders have asserted themselves and I'm really noticing how uncomfortable I am, pretty much all the time. I was a stomach sleeper and I am now a back sleeper. Once my chemo is over, I can start thinking more seriously about reconstruction surgery, but I am already fantasizing about sleeping on my stomach. I still feel so...mutilated. I think reconstruction will help with that. I know not every woman chooses to have reconstruction, and now that I've spent so much time in and around hospitals, I know why, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to have full reconstructive surgery. I'll never have real breasts again, but I want to feel more comfortable in my body than I do now.
In dread-despair news: I think the Zoloft is working a bit. I have started re-reading Trixie Belden mysteries from my childhood; they are so uncomplicated and solvable, unlike cancer. I have also forced myself to continue to reach out to people, even just for a few moments, to chat, to get out of myself. It is so easy to walk around with that cloud hanging over me. Sometimes I just need to run out from under it. Sometimes, once I do, it even disappears.
In Andrew news: he is out of the hospital! He is staying with his amazing sister right here in Columbia for now, while he continues his therapy on an outpatient basis. Since I'm in chemo and pretty compromised and his sister is a live wire of energy, it seemed best and safest for him to live with someone who can really take care of him while he focuses on himself. We visit back and forth several times a week and talk every day, including FaceTiming so Andrew can read Jamie a bedtime story (when Jamie allows it).
In Jamie news: he seems to be doing really well. As the son of two English majors, Jamie is well able to articulate many things, including his feelings, but only when he decides it's time. For example, he told me that I picked a really bad time to tell him I had cancer--"I was just starting first grade! That was a really bad time, Mommy"--but he seems to have forgiven me for having cancer. He is so affectionate and snuggly. "Oh, I love you, Mommy," are usually his last words to me every night. Oh, I love you, Jamie.
