Okay, so I’m still a bit behind on my weekly blog post, but hey I’m trying and I’m getting closer to being back on my regular weekend schedule. It’s good for me to just be writing. I have to remind myself of that every once in a while when the road gets rough. Still, it sometimes amazes me what I can learn about myself when I read what I’ve written. I can only hope that somewhere out there a reader learns about themselves as well and feels just a little better, a little stronger, maybe has a bit more hope for their dreams.

I’m seeing my acupuncturist every week now. Every week she tells me that we need to support my chi. Chi, in Chinese medicine, is the vital life force or energy that flows through all living things. It’s funny how when you come to know your own being, you can really feel those days when the energy is flowing reasonably well and those days when it’s just not flowing at all.

Monday I woke up just barely dragging. I called my nurse navigator and asked for guidance, telling her that I can’t be this wiped out before I’ve even actually started treatment! She reminded me, like so many people have, that my body is going through a lot right now just trying to heal from surgery. Sometimes I hate that reminder. I know it’s true, but I just want to be healthy right now. Take this cancer thing, epilepsy, and a new and annoying knee injury and it’s a great practice in patience. I should be a freakin’ buddha any day now. That’s one feeling. Then there’s the recognition that my cancer was caught early, my seizures have decreased significantly even with the stresses that my body has been under, and as far as I know my knee injury is nothing serious. There comes both appreciation and guilt seeing which can beat their way to the finish line and be the one I feel most. There’s a lot there.

Then we come to those moments when I recognize that I have both a disability and an illness that both may be controlled, but also both can wait on the other side of the door ready to come knocking at any time. There is a little fear, but mostly there’s a sense of almost awe, and that puzzle “how the hell did I get here?”

This week too there’s that number “25.” I’m waiting for my oncotype test results. The test will tell me whether I should choose chemotherapy or if solely hormone blockers will be sufficient. If my score on the test is above 25, chemo is likely in my future. Below 25 and hormone blockers will likely be sufficient. The waiting is most wearing. I find myself checking for results multiple times a day, wanting to know and not wanting to know.

All the feelings are a mish-mosh. All the waiting is a drag.