Yes, we just celebrated American Independence Day--but I think I'm also celebrating independence from the constant doctor and treatment visits and my body's independence from cancer. It's a bit selfish of me, I know, to ride the coattails of the Continental Congress like that. But I do favor doubling-up on celebrations where possible! More food! More fun!
Two days after my final radiation treatment I dragged myself back (with a mixture of excitement and trepidation) to my sorely-missed Jazzercise class! As a post-chemo encouragement gift, my sister had sent me cute workout clothes (finding my selection of workout wear on her visit during my exercise hiatus to be, well, lacking in fit and style, I suppose). I used the lure of that sassy exercise outfit to motivate me to haul my wobbly bottom out of the bed I so dearly wanted to stay in. I felt that I was missing out for all those months on something good with my class, but I had forgotten how very much I enjoy being in the company of those energetic women and having fun moving to the music! Awesome instructor, awesome ladies, everyone working to stay strong and have a good time while doing it. Let's be honest--the routine kicked my butt and hard! I had no doubt that it would. But what was so exciting for me was how I felt during the workout. I was sweating up a storm (I truly think I'm the sweatiest person there--always was--and not because I'm working out the hardest...I'm just really gross that way). I was huffing and puffing and tired out by the end. But I was not feeling the tight, constricted sensation in my chest that I had somehow gotten used to feeling during class. It wasn't a feeling I had always experienced...but because it came on slowly, increasing incrementally, I think I just got used to feeling that way and rationalized that it was a "gee, you're getting older and you must be more out of shape than you thought, you should work out harder and get in better condition" kind of thing.
What I hope is that I will remember the before and after feelings so that I can remain aware of my body and be proactive when things aren't normal. Thankfully my voice was the symptom of something gone wrong that I couldn't ignore--I had successfully managed to explain away fatigue, shortness of breath, wheezing, and that constricted feeling in my chest that were occurring months prior to that.
I'm not trying to spread a message of paranoia. But I do think it's worth a mention that most people I know tend to brush off persistent symptoms until they become chronic and, once chronic, simply mentally absorb those conditions as part of the way they "normally" feel.
So when you have aches and pains, a cough, fatigue unconnected to a change in routine or lifestyle, it makes sense to use ice or heat, rest the area, take pain relievers, or whatever is appropriate. But if you've been doing that for 2 weeks and the situation hasn't improved, well...maybe you might think about getting checked out. And, if a doctor says I don't know what that is, you're just getting older, it happens, whatever and doesn't seem to be the least bit curious as to the cause of the symptom, maybe you should talk to someone else. I'm just sayin'.
Speaking of all that, in following the recommendations of the ENT, I have experienced an improvement in my ear and neck pain. It hasn't disappeared completely, but it is much less painful than before. So the teeth clenching seems a likely culprit. I imagine myself with some mouth guard in combination with my CPAP mask and my glasses with the super-thick lenses before bed..things don't get any more attractive than that, I must say. Unless maybe you fancy a look reminiscent of a deep sea diver? Surgical patient? Life-sized science experiment? Hey, good lookin'! Mmmrow!! Hubba hubba!
And now for something serious. I know I said it was my personal Independence Day. But I want to acknowledge my bottomless thanks for all the people I have depended on these past 7 months. From the moment of my diagnosis to the last day of treatment, I have been absolutely astounded by the steadfast support, encouragement, and assistance that a huge network of family and friends has provided to me and to my family every step of the way. I have the most amazing, massive, and enthusiastic cancer-beating team--virtually and in person. How could I have done this alone? Impossible. I am forever humbled, forever changed for the better in being the recipient of such limitless human kindness and generosity. I hope to be able to pay it forward in kind. Thank you everyone.