A CASE OF BAD GAS

Brain Fart Number 1

Oh, the things I do these days. They are laugh-out-loud funny and shocking in revealing just how kittywampus my brain is.

So, I thought I’d just start sharing.

Here’s one story (more to come):

Today, I noticed my breasts were swollen and sore, for like, the second week in a row.

Then, I thought, I hadn’t had my period in months (they said this could happen during treatment).

Then, I thought, I’m often nauseous (they said this could happen during treatment).

Then, I thought, I am ALWAYS hungry and have gained weight during chemo and radiation (they said this could happen during treatment).

Then, I thought, I am always tired (they said this could happen during treatment).

Then, I thought, My belly is swollen and distended (constipation, gas, steroidal weight gain?).

Then, I thought, I crave foods I have heretofore never loved (like processed carbs and anything sweet).

Then, I thought, Not only do I crave strange foods, what’s up with my sudden and very suspicious dislike of alcohol?

Then, I thought, This isn’t cancer … I’M PREGNANT.

And then, so many side effects I was having made so much sense; the nausea, the weight gain, the fatigue, the cravings, the lack of my monthly lady gift, the swelling bosom, the repulsion to booze.

And then, I thought, Oh my god, what if I am pregnant? I couldn’t finish treatment. And then what if I relapse right away because I couldn’t finish treatment and I die all of a sudden, leaving Jack with a baby? Or what if I don’t finish treatment and I don’t relapse but I get Alzheimer’s and I can’t count from 10 backwards by the time my child graduates from high school? Or what if I don’t relapse and I don’t get Alzheimer’s, but my baby is born with three legs and one eye on the back of its head because it developed in a nuclear bomb site swilling chemo cocktails? Or what if I don’t relapse and I don’t get Alzheimer’s and I don’t birth a three-legged-eye-in-the-back-of-its-head love child, but I just don’t like being a middle-aged mom?

Then, I started to get all weepy, because I’ve always wanted a second child and I was just giddy at the thought that we could have a baby just as Rose was abandoning us for her own life. And in my head, I started decorating Rose’s former nursery for her cute wito bwover or sishter, and I started thinking how much better of a mother I would be the second time around because now I am SO wise and experienced and mature.

Then, I got even weepier thinking we could not let this happen because of all the ‘what ifs’ and everyone would advise me to have an abortion and that would be the wise thing to do but, dammit, I want to have my baby! I DON’T WANT AN ABORTION! I WANT TO HAVE MY BABY!!!!!!

And then Adabel said, “Why don’t you just do a pregnancy test to find out before all this speculation?”

And that seemed so sensible.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, flush with excitement at my new state and what to do about it. “Good idea.”

As you can see from the photo above – not pregnant.

Burp.

But whoa, for a few hours there, I was really wrestling with my cockamamey mind and its way-out-there projections of completely impossible possibilities.