Don't Worry Be Happy

"I hear chipmunk cheeks are in this year," said Dr. Lax with an impish grin as I walked in and sat down in his office. I like my doctor a lot. He's thorough. He's laid back. And he's honest. Besides my sister, no one tells me the truth about my face and neck and how they look like they were pumped full of air. BE alludes to noticing by telling me she loves it and I should stay on steroids forever that my face makes her want cheek implants. Somehow, as cute as that is, I find it hard to believe. But I do appreciate it. I hate my face. When I look in the mirror I don't recognize myself. I have the fat face I had in high school and it makes me cringe to look in the mirror. I feel like Kramer in that episode of Seinfeld where he has brown teeth and he says to Jerry, "[L]ook away, I'm hideous." When I was out the other night and very drunk, every time I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, my face looked more freakish. It reminded me of the time I did acid and spent the entire trip in the bathroom, half of the time talking to a distorted version of myself in the mirror.

Anyway, that is neither here nor there.

The point is that I might have a fat face but my blood is close to normal. That's the good news. I can almost stop taking iron, although my anemia is really the least of my problems. I wouldn't care if I had to take iron for the rest of my life. It's the other shit I want to stop taking. The drill now is that as of tomorrow I increase my dose of 6MP, a form of chemotherapy most commonly used for children suffering from leukemia from 100MG a day to 150MG per day. As of next Monday, I get to decrease my dose of prednisone, the steroid I am on from 20MG a day to 15MG per day. Thank you Dr. Lax for that wonderful Christmas present. When I started the steroids, the dosage was 40MG. So I am slowly trading one toxic drug for another. Steroids work quick fast which is why they are the first line of defense. The 6MP takes a couple of months to kick in, bringing up the rear in the treatment. Meanwhile the steroids are very harmful if taken long term and at a certain point the advantages are outweighed by the havoc they wreak on your body. Apparently my creaky, achy joints that feel rusty like they need to be oiled, my moon face and thick neck and diagnosed 'Substance Induced Mood Disorder,' did not reach the level of havoc necessary to stop taking prednisone sooner. Or maybe I have been on prednisone this long because my colonoscopy that mandated our orange level of alertness was compared to a third degree burn by Dr. George, the inflammatory bowel disease specialist. He then clarified that there is no such thing as a fourth degree burn. Hopefully, the decrease in the prednisone will will decrease the size of my face and I will no longer resemble Renee Zellweger in the second Bridget Jones Diary movie, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, she was fatter in that movie than in the first installment. I am so sick of people telling me I look like her. I don't look like her; normally I don't look like her when I look like myself. I guess now I look like her. I have to face that right now I have that face.

My 6MP intake will continue to increase. My prognosis has not changed. I will be on it until I decide to have a baby. I don't know exactly what side effects besides my weakened immune system the 6MP causes because I am on so many drugs it is hard to tell what's doing what. Side effects aren't my issue with the 6MP. My issue is that it reminds me that I am sick. I can have a normal sized face (fingers crossed that it deflates soon) and finally feel in control of my body and be able to stay out until 5 in the morning and eat whatever I want for the first time in 8 years but I am going to be on chemotherapy for the rest of my life. People with cancer are not on chemo for their entire lives yet I will be. That's a serious mindfuck. And I have trouble getting my head around that. It's hard to reconcile me and chemotherapy for life in the same sentence. You know I can almost touch my toes when I do a backward bend. You know I have run six marathons. You know I worked an all nighter a couple of weeks ago. My body is strong. My body can kick ass. I can dance all night until the club closes. My body is being pumped full of nasty chemicals that I voluntarily ingest so who cares that I rarely eat red meat and drink a lot of water and eat my veggies and whole grains and barely drink coffee anymore.

Baby steps. Baby steps. It's all about the game of inches says my old friend. I have to get used to this. I have to embrace this. I have to make it mine. I can't allow it to consume me. I can't allow it to own me. I have to own it. I have to be in control. I have to go back to my other old friend, denial. Denial that I am on chemotherapy and that's some serious shit. Instead have balance, own that I am feeling good and maybe my face is fat but I have lost 13 pounds since August which Dr. Lax considers miraculous. Usually when on prednisone for the this many months people gain about 50 pounds. Silver lining, huh. Maybe chipmunk cheeks but not a chipmunk ass. Hmph.