Don't Speak

Three months ago I was sore and swollen, couldn't eat, couldn't speak, and drooled incessantly. My, my how far I've come...NOT!

Another week of radiation completed and while the side effects haven't abated, I think I am managing them a little better, partly helped by the fact that unless I absolutely have to I don't speak. The lesions are so numerous on my lips and tongue, and so painful when I do talk, that I find it's just better not to say a word (sound of children rejoicing in the background). Plus, my speech is difficult at best to understand (yeah, you try talking without moving your lips and tongue and see how you sound) and I get terribly frustrated if I have to repeat myself. At work this hasn't been too bad - there is much that can be done by e-mail, at least on a temporary basis. And at home, Warren and the kids are very understanding. What does get to me is not being able to make (or accept) calls in general - from my cousin Lysa (who I hardly ever get to really talk to); to my step-dad and uncle (to ask about their health); from my sister (who doesn't always want to know the details of my treatment process and therefore has trouble understanding why I can't talk to her for long); to friends I want to reach out to. As much as I love writing, it becomes less appealing when it's all I can do to communicate.

I did see my radiation oncologist Thursday, and he gave me a numbing solution to rinse my mouth with before meals so I could at least eat (they actually call it "Miracle Mouthwash"). It only lasts for 20 minutes or so, which is fine because I am not eating much anyhow (hard to keeping shoveling tasteless food into one's mouth). I have lost weight, more than I would have liked, but far from being emaciated. Thank goodness for Ensure! An interesting thing that I have noticed is how important texture has become for me. It's always been somewhat of a factor in my food choices (for instance, I like the flavor of mushrooms, but biting them? Nuh-uh), but now it is critical to choose a texture I can tolerate since I can't taste anything. Scrambled eggs and Kraft macaroni and cheese? Yes to those. Oatmeal and applesauce? Not happening. And I have no idea why!

I also saw the plastic surgeon this week, who I adore and who calls me "my love" and who, God Bless him, gave me the OK to exercise when I feel up to it (which, as you can guess, is not yet). Monday I see the endocrine surgeon for a regular follow up visit as well. And so it goes.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day and I remember well the last two weeks of my mother's life, my brother and I holding vigil by her bedside from early morning to late evening, sharing stories and meals with her until lucidity and life slipped slowly away, as did any negative memories of difficult times (isn't that how it should be?). She left me with so much - independence, compassion, a thirst for knowledge, a sense of style, an ability to laugh, and an unwavering belief in love (I always say of the woman who married 4 times that she was going to do it until she got it right -which she finally did with my stepdad Ken). I miss her every day. And I hope that when the time comes (not too soon please!) for Taryn to spend days at my bedside, easing my transition to the next life, that I will have successfully given her all that I received from my own mother and more.

And now...I shall speak no more.