When I was pregnant, I was nauseated constantly. Low-grade (when I was lucky), extreme (whenever I tried to get on some form of transportation), pop-up (when food was put in front of me or some woman on the elevator wore perfume). While my pregnancy was planned, I found myself seriously considering abortion at one point. I couldn't bear the inevitable, hair-trigger vomiting. Or moreover, the seeping, ever-present sick. (While I didn't take medication - though my sister had hyperemesis gravidarum and was medicated in both of her pregnancies; she couldn't drink water without throwing it up?! - I just muddled through. And by muddled through, I mean complained incessantly so that no one could stand to have a conversation with me and then had crying jags culminating in my throwing up.) Not surprisingly, I have but one child.
Sure, with the onset of the migraines, that nausea recurs (though more tolerably). I feel the echoes of pregnancy sickness. I avoid transportation and certain food. My old, daily stand-by, bacon, is of late, unappealing. Who doesn't want bacon, like constantly??
But I have to say, since I've been in NC - having an extreme family experience - I can't shake the nausea. Of course I'm dealing with a migraine (please, isn't that par for the course?), and I'm in cars all the time. But, Lord, this is hardcore. I don't think of myself as one of those delicate ladies who feels sick from stress and worry.
Maybe I feel sick from stress and worry? (Cuz I sure as hell am not pregnant.)
Part of me doesn't want to burden you with this - the journey of cancer recovery. It's not a fun topic. It doesn't come with photos (and thank your lucky stars for that). But the other part recognizes that it's the way I want to go through this - an experience which is both mine and not mine. I find meaning when I'm writing, as my brain seeks and finds the words.
So, sometimes, over the next while, I will write posts about how I feel about cancer - about managing the emotional minefield that is the illness (albeit temporary) of one's mother (the very wellspring of nurture and stability). If these posts are unappealing, fear not. There will be others in the vein of creativity and crafts. (And you know how I love to stress-shop.) I mean, y'all stuck with me through the depression-zone of pertussis (have I said thank you for that recently??), so I'm confident this will not throw us all over the edge.
Now, off to the doctor's office.