I have decided a few things:
1. The shots did not really work. I woke up, the nurses made me walk, and I sobbed uncontrollably when I realized the pain from walking was still the same. I remain hopeful the cumulative effect of the upcoming rounds produces the magical results people say they will. Otherwise it's time to go under again. In the meantime I walk with a cane because I refuse to use the recommended walker.
2. I need to shake the hand of the person who created the pop up microwave popcorn bowl. For reals yo. When I saw the commercials I thought "Now who in the hell came up with this stupid idea?" Clearly Einstein's offspring. Oh the convenience! My only sad revelatory moment was in watching the bag pop. I seriously thought the popping action would take it from laying (lying? I don't remember) on its side to an upright position. An ambitious notion perhaps, but not inconceivable to a gal like me. A delightful bedroom dining experience nonetheless. (I take all my meals in bed these days.)
3. I am completely and utterly ensconced in the world of Mad Men. Having lived sans cable the last five years, I've missed out on this spectacular show. Having an odd attachment to the 50s and 60s since I was a child, I wore poodle skirts as a girl and embraced being a teen hippie. As an overall history buff I am enamored with concept of Kennedy's Camelot, the culture, and the counter-culture of the era. This show is visually spot-on, the historical tie-ins accurate, and the storyline so up my alley. The all-day drinking and chain-smoking in the office has me jonesing for some nicotine b-a-d. Lucky for me I already take my drinks in bed (not during work hours of course). I wish people still dressed like this; it would make my life.
Speaking of number three, I heard a line today that really resonated with me. "The only thing keeping you from being happy is the belief that you are alone." I have been reflecting about how I've been wallowing in the pain of being in pain. It's hard not to when it's your 24/7 experience. And I do feel alone in all this, because nobody around me understands what this feels like. Today I was stunned when a co-worker told me my face looked sad.
After work I talked with R for a while because I wanted to give him a chance to vent about everything that is eating him alive. His version of being alone is different though, because he only wants interpersonal contact on his own terms He believes he is alone now--alone to bear the weight of knowing more than everyone else in the room. It was the same rant I heard almost every day for months, but with more venom to the words. It is that state of being alone that keeps him from being happy, and likely will for as long as he allows it.
4. As much as I might feel it, I am not alone. I am surrounded by people who love and help me. I can and will make it through this. I have happiness on the horizon. More to come on that soon.