It’s been a bit of time since I posted but my chemotherapy recovery continues, slow but steady. My hands and feet are still numb, and my thumbnail is hanging on by a thread, but I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from heading off for a short vacation in Maine that we planned way back in April. Back then, in the middle of chemo, I couldn’t imagine the day would come when I would be eating a lobster roll and TASTING IT, or having enough strength to window shop for a half a day. It felt great to do both.
The weather was kinda of a rain out, but Little John Island, Portland and Kennebunkport were all super picturesque.
The only real down side was that my tear ducts (stents and all) decided to stop working so I had to deal with water works and blurry eyes which is really annoying when you are trying to take photos to post on Instagram (ct_reality_girl).
So, upon my return home, I promptly called my eye surgeon, Flora Levin (or as I call her “The Eleventh Floor) and we agreed that it was time to remove the stents and see if my eyes could correctly go with the flow. Today was the day. Dr. Floor 11 told me that I had two choices: (1) to snip the tubes in the corner of my eyes and see if I could blow them out of my nose (sorry) which was risky, or (2) snip the tubes and have her pull them out through my eyes which would be more painful. I told her I didn’t really want to be part of this decision, knowing that she wasn’t going to pick “risky” and I wasn’t going to chose “painful”. Well, she chose. And then she snipped and then she pulled. Imagine having a plastic string with a knot on the end being pulled through your tear duct. Don’t you love it when a doctor says, “You’re going to feel a little pressure.” I think they must have a class in medical school where they get graded for how well they can say this with a straight face. Needless to say, yes – I felt pressure…the pressure to scream. Instead I squeezed the shit out of Billy’s hand. Billy said it was a lot like watching The Strain. So without any more details, it’s done. I can check this milestone off the list. Right now, my eyes are still watering, but it will take a week or two to know whether it’s all going to work out o.k. Until then, I’ll try not to complain or go insane.
First of all, the Eleventh Floor just about killed me – too perfect.
I’m glad this is done and over with and I hope you get back to crying at just the right time, not all the time.
It’s moments like these we all wish we could call for a stunt double to jump into the chair while we sip mocha java in our dressing trailer. But I’m glad this is winding down for you. We’ve both had medical miseries (yours far trump mine) but it’s ironic that we’re both “emerging” at the same time. I hope it means we can get back to being the clever, creative, brilliant and funny wise-asses – instead of miserable whiny-pusses – that I think God [substitute your definition here] intended us to be.
Congratulations, Jodi!
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