Today was by all accounts a good day. I started back at the boxing gym where I used to work out. Much of my chemo-surgery-chemo summer was spent in a hideous yet comfortable recliner, and I could not imagine a day when I'd feel strong enough to put my boxing gloves back on (fun fact about boxing gloves is that just wearing them makes you feel powerful, even if you don't know a jab from a left hook). Today I put them on.
Sure, ok, my cardio level is not what it once was -- it's basically non-existent because recliner. I had to stop A LOT and catch my breath, and a couple of times I felt slightly dizzy 3 or 4 minutes after doing something I used to do for 15 or 20. It is a slow road. Chemo really does a number on your physical fitness, and it's not like I was all that athletic beforehand.
***
The day before Thanksgiving I went to get my blood levels checked. The doctors have been doing this once a week since I started the maintenance drug, because the drug can decimate your platelet count. Which is exactly what happened. So even though I had an apple pie to make, I needed to stay in the hospital and get a platelet transfusion.
This sounds way more serious than it is. I mean, yes, it's serious -- but receiving blood or platelets is not akin to receiving chemo. Low platelets are a common side effect of the medication, and many people need to get transfusions. They then go back on the medication at a lower dose. It's the body adjusting.
It's a reminder (as though I might forget) of what I'm dealing with. And the realization that I'm never going to be the person I was before this all happened. It feels like I've been blown up into a million pieces and I'm trying to put myself back together again from memory -- but there are these gaps and cracks, I'm crooked, misshapen, and wobbly. I'm something else entirely, even if my face looks like the same face.
But today at least, I showed up to the boxing gym, 12" abdominal scar, compromised muscle tone and all. It is a weird and (hopefully long) road ahead.
No comments:
Post a Comment