Day 247: surprise and thanks, for you and the Greek Goddess

The world is so beautiful, so new, and so full of surprise. I'm currently staying at my parents' place near the Cape, and even though the weather has been pretty windy and cool, it's warm in the sun. This morning, for the first time, I saw a baltimore oriole outside my window (the bird, not the sports team…). Anne of Green Gables may be right that each day is new with no mistakes in it; but it also is new with surprises. I'm not what you would call a bird watcher, but this beauty was fully worth my praise; a brilliant mac-n-cheese tummy flitting between leaves of the japanese maple. 

And more surprises. Over the past few months, a friend of mine has been organizing a fundraiser “Café2Café” bike ride on the North Shore. The 70+ mile ride was today. Last year the donated proceeds went to a women's house on the North Shore for survivors of human trafficking. This year, the money was raised for living expenses for my sister and me. They raised almost $1500. I am again, and again, and again, floored by the love of people. I have never felt incredibly great about accepting monetary gifts, so I try to see this as the outpouring of love that it is. People are beautiful, and so good. The right words are hard to find to thank you all for your support, of all kinds. This has been the hardest, most physically and emotionally challenging year of my life. There were times I wasn't sure I could make it through, or was convinced that I didn't want to. Meds talking or not, there have been really dark moments over this past year. I've seen the bottom of the pit; I've dwelt there and felt the effects of that place on my psyche. Any plans I thought I had were utterly disrupted or severely re-routed beyond recognition. I've watched my body wither away and change shapes and colors, aching every moment as the strongest poison washed away my immune system. The months that followed were spent fearful and weak; sleeping most of the days, waiting for my body to miraculously start healing itself. It didn't seem possible that I’d ever come out of it, that I’d make it through those long months.

But it's happening. Right now. The distance traversed is gigantic. I'm not as dependent on pain pills anymore, I don't sleep nearly as much (though still a lot). I feel energy coming back to me, slowly--but nonetheless, returning. There were so many days and hours I felt I would never reach this point; and I can't believe I'm saying this. I am here. In this place, at this time, alive. Growing, healing, transforming. 

Lately I’ve been feeling negative towards my body for its lack of muscle and flexibility, and for general flabbiness. I am still blotchy, and I still have dark circles around my eyes, baby hair, and scars on my chest. But I am reminded today to look past these trifling problems, and pay homage to the great strength that my body has shown through the tribulations it has endured. My body has served me well, and I need to celebrate it. You done good, body! You've shielded me from many side effects, you've been beaten down: first by cancer and then by the near-lethal treatment--and remained even still. You’ve travelled noxious ground victoriously, voyaged dangerously close to death and pulled through, you Greek Goddess! You are worthy of praise and adoration! I will constantly fight the negative feelings and hold you in awe.

In those moments of doubt, as I’m sure they won’t ever leave me for good: when I’m not sure I want to do this anymore, struggle longer, wait for an elusive end to the trial—I must recall these moments of true surprise. I’ve found myself almost nine months out from my transplant, and a year out from the beginning of this saga. What surprise! I wasn’t sure how I could do it, how I could survive even another day of the solitude and depression and fear. But I am here. Here, almost nine months out. Only four months left of this quarantine. I’ve gone so far into the forest that I’m now on my way out the other side. Eyes on the (sur)prize!

So, thank you to everyone who rode in the Café to Café ride, and to Patrick for organizing the whole event. You guys confound me in the best way. And thank you to the Greek Goddess. I literally wouldn’t be here, right here, without you.

Day 111: steroids, anti-depressants, baby birds

My throat is cracking like the plains of the Sahara because the hospital air is filtered and re-filtered and conditioned and DRY. So dry. I made myself a cup of throat coat tea. This stuff is pretty good, if you like that sort-of-sweet licorice flavor. I happen to, so it's real nice.

I just got home a few hours ago from a five day stint in the hospy, and you know what that means. (Maybe. In case not: bruised arms from so many needles, aching back from crappy bed, new medicines to take, stir crazy mind from small room, etc.) I had to go to the ER on Friday because of increasing chest pains that were making it more and more impossible to breathe. As it turned out, I had some probably-viral-thing that caused fluid to build up around an already inflamed heart lining. I forget what it's called, but now I'm back on steroids and it seems to be working. No, not muscle building steroids. These babies play with your mind and make you eat and walk around all day. Thankfully the specific type they put me on doesn't seem to have any huge effects (cue horrible memories of other steroid trials. The pacing. The crying. The wanting to die.) Thankfully it was pretty easy to tell last time that the steroid was what making me want to kill myself, so after just two days of trying it out, we cut it off.

I'm not going to lie though: the steroids just intensify what's going on inside your head. They raise the stakes higher, and deepen the agony. For days upon unending days I felt trapped and alone in this nightmare. I was going to cry until my body disintegrated.

This brings up an issue that I can’t shy away from anymore. Depression. It’s happening. I didn’t want it to happen, I wanted to stay strong. I wanted to get through this sludge and have a good attitude. Conquer each step like victories of gold. But there’s too much sliding down the cliff now for me to hold on anymore. I feel weak and unmotivated and dull. Most days I feel like doing absolutely nothing but maybe watch some crappy reality TV and maybe sleep. There's too much Always winter, never Christmas in here. And when I look at the time I’m spending, I think to myself, this is not intentional living, Bekah. This is not how you wanted to spend this time. And I hate myself for it. It makes me feel worse, and I slip further down, the mire slop piling around me, self and body fading away.

So on Friday I’m going to ask for help. I’m going to try an anti-depressant. It’s so hard to get through this, even with all the support I know that I have around me. I guess I just need a bit more help in this way. I’m no stranger to anti-depressants or depression, though it was a bit harder to spot for what it was this time around. I’ll report back my findings as I enter back into the world anti-depressants. I hope I can feel a change.

On a lighter, hairy-er note, my sister thinks I look like a baby bird. 

...You can make your own assumptions.

ps. It's finally past 100 days, and I've been eating salad like it's my job, even though nothings in season and probably doesn't taste very good but I don't really care at this point.
And tonight, I am going to eat my favorite Siam Delight curry for dinner. That is one good thing I can count on.