Why Did the Depressed Chicken Cross the Road?

This is a trick question, of course.  The depressed chicken does not cross the road because she cannot get out of her roost in the morning, never mind look both ways for oncoming traffic.  I suppose if she were me (duh) it would be "to get to hertherapist's office, to take her kid to camp, to get to her workplace that she loves."

This chicken is successfully getting out of the house now.  Without crying first.  And she laughs sometimes and is actually hungry and eats. Small steps.  This entry is one of those steps.........

The weather on Cape Cod was lovely, and it was great  to see my dad and brothers and their families, and for my boys to spend some time with their cousins.  It was hard for me because I couldn't (didn't event want to) eat one whole lobster, or finish a whole chocolate frappe (that's what we call them up there - kind of like a milkshake but not exactly) or more than four steamers out of the order.  I didn't want to spend endless hours studying Hebrew grammar, translating sentences and figuring out verbal tenses, unraveling the mysteries of the dagesh, that mysterious dot that pops up where it seemingly doesn't belong.   I didn't even read much.  I didn't want to get out of bed, and when I finally did I couldn't wait to get back in. 

And of course the first few days Rod & I spent much time examining the infected area on the left to be sure it was getting better.  (It took two days for us to realize that our bedroom and bathroom at the lake house are wallpapered in pink and everything took on a pinkish hue; so for a while there was constant stress that it just wasn't getting better until we decided to take a look out in the white light of the sun.) By Monday already I knew that part was getting better but something else was not right.  I should have been so relieved, so happy, so excited, but nothing.  It was beyond sad, and although I usually leave the internet for games and curious facts about famous people, I looked up the classic signs for depression and there they all were.

So, I put in a call to our primary longtime beloved physician and he prescribed something called Celexa, 20 mg.  The local CVS obligingly filled it and the next day I was not only depressed but also now nauseous and yawning through most of the day.  Lovely.  So I called and was told that a) it takes at least 2 weeks to "kick in" and b) to cut the pills in half.  And that's what we did for the rest of vacation.  (We've since changed to 10 mg which we're cutting in half, and I'm willing to give the thing a shot as long as the side effects are minimized.)

I also needed a person, so took recommendations from people I trust for someone to talk to.  More about who I've chosen when it happens, but I've been to one and I've got another booked for next week.  Hopefully that process will get on track soon.

I am trying to stop examining my own psyche to try to "fix" what I perceive as "broken" in myself.  As I was advised by so many, I am trying to just "do."  One foot in front of the other.   And I think it's getting easier.  (Oops, there I go self-examining again.)

On the physical front, I'd like to introduce Ralph and Louie, my reconstructions.  I've decided that it's more fun than "right" and "left" and it made the plastic surgeon smile (me too.)  So call it my refusal to come to terms with reality, call it silly, but too bad.  For now, they're Ralph and Louie.

I went in to the plastic surgeon and told him that mentally I was not ready for him to keep enlarging Ralph while just waiting for Louie to get completely well (or explode, or whatever.)  Because of the previous radiation, he remains convinced that we will be going ahead with the latissimus dorsi (sp?) procedure on that side, and I think he's right.  It's one thing to be a little different, but Louie's more of a rock than he ought to be, and not in the supportive way one usually uses the term "rock."

Doctor D. gave me "off" until the end of the month to be ready to make the next moves, which are: Under minimal anesthesia, in a brief procedure he will remove Louie's expander, and then wait for the area to heal.  During this time he will (very) gradually expand Ralph to a "final" desired size.

Then, (and hopefully in just one surgery,) he will do the new reconstruction for Louie involving my back muscle, and also put in both permanent implants.  That's at least a 72-hour hospital stay - no fun but hopefully with an outcome everyone can live with.  It's a lot to digest but for now, one step at a time, like I said.

In the meantime, we have also met with Dr. McIntosh (breast surgeon) who gave me the results of the Oncotype test.  My score is 8, which she says is very good and to her indicates no chemo, just Tamoxifen or whatever the appropriate thing is for my age/hormone count (something like that.)  She said this unequivocally and (I felt) without fear of my being told something different by the oncologist.  Dr. M. also told me to come back in a month, reiterated that she definitely wasn't going after more lymph nodes (there apparently having been recent studies showing she was right, and it isn't necessary or useful) and gave me the words to tell Dr. D'Amico that I needed a couple of mental health weeks.  If you need her, and I hope you don't, ever, you should use her.  She is awesome.

I called Dr. Ligresti's (oncologist) office to see if they had the test results and when I should come in to talk. She had just returned from being away and was completely "snowed under" in paperwork.  Her receptionist asked if I could call back next week to make an appointment.  She said they had also received the results and, when I said "looks like I should be happy, right?"  confirmed that this was "good" news.  (Here it should be noted that ordinarily receptionists for my doctors do NOT say anything like that.  I'm pretty sure they're not allowed to because, well, nobody wants to get sued for their employee giving out information that later turns out to be inaccurate.)   And these people are very professional.  So, I distill from this that the woman has seen a lot of these results and felt very safe in saying what she said.  And that's what I'm going with until I hear otherwise. 

Meanwhile I've been back at work on a "gentle" basis.  Alex, for one, is relieved that I'm driving again but Alex, (and Ari, and Andrew, and Jackie, and Daddy, and above all, Rod) - you have been and continue to be my champions.)  I love my family, I love my friends, and I love my job.  I just can't seem to "feel" it or "live" it or express it and it's frustrating as all get-out.

Tonight I'm going to lead services with my friend Evelyn, and although I'm completely prepared (we've been doing this annually for going on ten years I think) I'm nervous and a little bit excited.  And now I'm hungry too so I have to stop writing.  Besides, you all have been patient enough already:)