I am having a hard time even remembering what it was like to be in that pain of a few weeks ago — when I would use the power doors of the side doors on the minivan and load groceries in the chairs rather than open the back hatch and be forced to pull that dang door back down to close it again.
When I would ask the kids to pick up something I dropped on the floor. When I was breathless with gratitude that Francois was arranging the sheets on my side of the bed each night.
When I would finally push through and haul my butt into the driver’s seat of the car, but then drive with my body all crooked because it hurt too much to straighten it out.
I am pain free! Swimming a 1 and 1/2 miles feels too easy. I *want* to jump and run (but I don’t — I’ll wait for the scans and the clear-to-go from my doctor). I can cough without dread and sneezing — well sneezing will still cause me to stand still and utter a OOOooh LA afterwards.
There a places in my body now that are stronger, and less painful than before treatment started. This definitely feels like healing.
And I saw my oncologist. She’s amazing. And now I’ve done the research and followed the doubts and know that my deeply reflective, researched answer is that I want to be with this Dr. through this journey. That feels strong and right. (Still am not running back to surgery outpatient in Issaquah, though… Not yet.)
It’s been a few weeks of marvelous insights and revelations. I feel huge growth spurts growing out of this. So much to process — and too many happy experiences taking up my time to sit and write about it all.