It’s been three weeks since my diagnosis. Our life changed not only with the cooking and juicing, but also with our everyday thinking. It is still up and down, and down and up, but it is not so bad.
During this third week we celebrated my in-laws 50th anniversary and the snow fell yet again on New York and made everything so much nicer and fun.
The beets are crawling up to my ears. The taste of sweetness and earth. The deep red color. I come to my mom: “I need a beet break.” Mom just laughs: “I was waiting for you to come up with that. I was shocked you were able to take it for so long without a break.” Yes, I am still juicing, but now it’s more an ode to carrots. Carrots and one thousand and one ways to put it into a juice.
My husband is also trying new recipes, he just recently put on his wizard hat and created a nice green one: kale, green apple, lemon and celery. By the way, the juicing works! I started to get a cold but the viruses ran away so fast that I was almost healthy the next day. I should get commissions from some juicing company. I am a great sales representative and even my colleague is thinking about buying one for herself.
My husband is taking our healthy diet very seriously. “My body cannot take anymore vitamins and healthy food” complains my mom as she runs away from yet another good and healthy dinner made by my husband from our new “The Breast Cancer Cookbook.” I am thrilled! The book is awesome, as is the food. The only problem is that my husband read the small fact that too much salt is not good, so not a lot of salt in his food. Oh, poor me, I love salt. If you give me a choice between chocolate and kimchi I would go for kimchi. This is just another thing that I will hold against this disease. Just not fair at all.
This third week was also about waiting. Waiting for my lumpectomy and getting the insane cells out of my body. I am getting used to all of this, used to the fact that my body, my own body, is able to betray me and create cells that I don’t want to have.
I also realized there might be just one more downer. I won’t have another biological child. By the time I will finish all my treatments I will be 42, and even though I won’t be that old, I don’t want to jeopardize anything by having yet another hormonal swing. I believe adoption might be the right way for us. We have enough love to share with another person.
I think everybody will be happier because I am not sure if they could handle more of my pregnancy kimchi cravings. Interesting how many people hate the smell of a nice big jar of kimchi. As I am writing this, my mouth is filling with saliva. I am like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
Even with all these ups and downs, we can still have fun and laugh. My humor is getting darker, yes, definitively darker. Soon I might get bald from the chemo and that would be something new. I am thinking about buying a pink wig. Who could tell a breast cancer patient that her hairstyle is too much?