It was a normal Wednesday evening for me. I was sitting at home watching Investigation Discovery with my family when the biggest headache I had ever had came upon me. My husband rubbed my neck thinking that I might just be out in my shoulders, but that did not relieve the pressure. We called my aunt to drive us to the local emergency room. While I was there, I began seizing. They gave me so many drugs (Keppra, Dilloted, and Dilatin) without pushing fluids. They then called an ambulance to transport me to Texoma Medical Center in Denison. I began seizing over and over in the ambulance. The emergency room physician told my husband that because my blood pressure was dropping at such an alarming rate (it was 68/49 when I arrived) that if they could not raise my blood pressure, I was going to have to be put in a medically induced coma. Thank God for the amazing nurse who sat beside me during this time and constantly kept pushing fluids at a high rate, or else I would not be here typing this blog to all of you today. I was finally released to go home on Saturday. I have nothing but good things to say about my visit to Texoma Medical Center this time. The eighth floor oncology nurses are the best, and I truly believe they saved my life.
They've changed up my drug therapy once again. I am no longer on Celexa, Trazadone, or Ambien. I am now on Amitriptilene. This one tiny green pill is supposed to cure me of my depression and help me sleep. Last night was my first night to try this miracle drug....and it sucked! I was up all night, and today, I have been crying my eyes out. I am not sure there is a cure for knowing you are going to die sooner than you had anticipated. Everyone keeps telling me that I need to get away from it all for a while, but how do you do that when your body keeps reminding you how sick you are?
About three months ago, I rented a movie called "Paris, Je t'aime" from Netflix. I watched it on a Sunday when I was not feeling very well and Kevin was working. I was having a hard time dealing with the cancer and well, just everything...and I was having an extremely difficult time of breathing that night.
The movie is a compilation of 18 5- minute films, each by different directors and set in one of the 20 Parisian arrondisements. Watching the compilation was bittersweet for me, in part because many of the films have some degree of sadness. But most of my sadness lay in the fact that I will never likely visit that lovely place that I have always dreamed of.
In one of the films a young woman wakes early and carries her bundled baby via public transport, to a barren daycare where dozens of cribs are lined in rows. Her boy starts to cry as she leaves and she sings the following lullaby to him with love and sadness in her eyes:
Que' linda manito que tengo yo,
(What pretty little hands have I)
que' linda y blanquita que Dios me dio
(How pretty and white that God gave me)
Qué lindos ojitos que tengo yo,
(What pretty eyes have I)
qué lindos y negritos que Dios me dio
(How pretty and dark that God gave me)
Qué linda boquita que tengo yo,
(What a pretty little mouth have I)
qué linda y rojita que Dios me dio
(How pretty and red that God gave me)
Qué lindas patitas que tengo yo,
(What pretty little feet have I)
qué lindas y gorditas que Dios me dio
(How pretty and chubby that God gave to me)
The mother leaves her baby and travels a long distance via metro and bus to her employer's home. Her employer tells her she will be home late that evening. "You don't mind right?" Of course she minds but what is she to say? Then a baby cries and the woman goes to the infant and sings the same song, this time with affection, but not with love. And I ached for her and all the women who leave their children not of their own volition but of necessity. That lullaby played in my head for days, breaking my heart each time.
In the final film, a postal worker from Denver walks through Paris while she narrates via voice-over in her American accented French about her Parisian vacation. Throughout the film she seems like such a lonely soul, missing her pets at home, eating alone, walking alone. In the final scene she pensively sits on a park bench eating "un sandwich" and observes the scene around her. In her narration she talks about how in that moment she experienced something that she never felt before in her life: joy and sadness at the same time, but only a little sadness. She felt "viviant"...alive.
One thing that struck me in this film is that the Parisians do not seem to hold on to their losses or struggles the way Americans do. I think we, Americans, are much more closeted about our emotional pain...perhaps that is why we are such a violent culture, the feelings have to erupt somehow. Over the past several months, as I have admitted to my own struggles with my illness and the accompanying emotional consequences, many people have opened up to me about their own emotional struggles. Depression is ugly...and though my struggle with depression has been rough, others have been even harder...sometimes taking depression to the max and committing suicide. I will not tell you that I do not have suicidal thoughts because I do. I feel stuck in a body that will not allow me to fight back. I feel stuck in a house that I am sick of looking at every single day. My heart is broken, but somehow I march on. Perhaps, that is the human condition. We march on, broken hearts and all, through our tormented lives...we continue to fight, love, live, and laugh with our fragile little hearts, running the risk of further pain on a constant quest for joy.
Maybe that is why I wish I was in Paris. They do not have an issue with showing their emotions. They wear their emotions proudly...and so do I. I cry in front of people, I get angry, I offer hope, I lend a shoulder, and I am not afraid to show my sadness or my happiness to others. I like to say I am a person of many different colors. I am me. I am complicated, yet easy to please. I am complex, yet my puzzle pieces are perfectly pieced together. My sadness comes deep within...and Paris has my heart "Paris a mon coeur".
facebook.com/hope4shanna
http://lungevity.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donordrive.participant&participantID=15728 Please help me get to the National Summit in Washington, D.C. and donate to LUNGevity, the leading private provider of lung cancer research!
https://www.customink.com/g/ysw0-00ae-0juz For my prayer warriors! Please purchase a t-shirt or hoodie to show your support for my battle against Lung Cancer!
No comments:
Post a Comment