"Recovery?"

re-cov-ery: a regaining of something lost or stolen; a regaining of balance, control, composure; a return to health, conscience, etc..

  I recently was having trouble with one of my medications and had to look up the definition of something called a "Inert Matrix Tablet." I found out that it simply means that they inject medication into a time-released capsule. When swallowed, the stomach acid eats away at the capsule and the medication enters the system at a even time-released pace leaving the unused capsule behind to be discarded by the body. This got me thinking about the movie "The Matrix" and how it related to my current progress. Man, I have a lot of time on my hands. My whole goal here is to be completely honest with you. When I heard that I was moving into a recovery phase of my illness, I had a completely different plan of how it was going to go down. What I thought would happen and what did were two different realities. That's where "The Matrix" comes in.
  In the movie people were living in a false, computer generated reality. They were given a choice to take a blue pill and continue living in the false world or take a red pill and confront the truth, a world run by machines (sorry if I missed anything to you Matrix fans out there). In short, "The Matrix" is a computer coded false reality. The "blue pill" for me was the reality I created in my mind. I had visions of making a major comeback with theme to Rocky playing in the back round. There I was running in my sweats through the streets of Granada Hills with people on their front porches waving and cheering me on. My husband and family smiled with tears in their eyes at how strong and amazing their wife, mother, and daughter had become. Then came the "red pill".
  You know how sometimes you are forced to do things? Things that are hard or uncomfortable? Things that frankly you would much rather be stabbed to death with a spork than do. Being told I have to get moving sounded so easy when I was laying around on meds watching the Cooking Channel. When dawn cracked in my house and I slowly squeaked one eyelid open, the wave of dread that hit me was like the latest tsunami in Indonesia. I hated everyone and everything, including myself for being such a wimpy whiny..well..sick person!
  I cried over toast every morning because it took a half an hour to eat it. Everything tasted and smelled awful and I HAD to eat. Let me just say that when you are forced to eat, it looses it's charm but quick. I was down from 125 to 95 and looked like a stick person. I had to pad chairs because of my bony backside. None of my clothes or underclothes fit me. I could barely shuffle down our back alley which was a real let down to my two little young dogs who need exercise. I found myself apologizing to them and throwing out an extra treat for their time. All of the side-effects I thought would magically disappear are still loitering around like cheap dime store hoodlums. Where is the the theme music!? The raw egg milkshakes!? The waving neighbors!? The arms raised in a big V!!
  It started slow. I could eat a little more. I had a craving. I noticed something that made me smile. I re-arranged cupboards with my mom. I took up cooking and even some canning (things I had always wanted to do only never had time). My hands and legs moved a little easier. I could drive down the street by myself. I did some yard work. This was not the fireworks grand finale I was thinking of but ok. I am now two months and a week from my last chemo and five months out from major surgery. I have read that it will probably take from six months to a year for me to really feel more like myself. I am almost half way there. I still get frustrated and discouraged when I have my "bad days." How come I'm so impatient? Is it that I'm an American and want everything now. Is it that I live in Los Angeles where everyone goes at Autobahn speeds? We don't even have an Autobahn! Or is it that I am just human and forced to face my frailty. I hate being weak. I hate crying, even if it is by myself. I hate having to rely on my husband to open jars for me.
  I guess the bottom line is this... Sometimes we are weak and can't do it without help. Don't ya hate that? I would like to think I can do it all but I can't. My good friend Mario told me, "I'm gonna tell you right now. You better quit thinking that you can do it all. You are putting too much pressure on yourself." He was a football coach for many years and you know what? I'm not a 6' 18 year old linebacker and he is right. I have to take the red reality pill and take it easy on myself. I need to keep reminding myself that it is ok to take three steps forward and two steps back. At least I gained one more. I guess that's why they call it the recovery "process".

Stay tuned as next time we do some "Hanging Out With Hope"