All I Need Is the Air I Can’t Breathe

This essay was published on a previous blog, but has since been edited.

Those of us who get diagnosed with cancer are in so much turmoil, that making life-saving decisions is so very difficult. All of a sudden, we are inundated with statistics of which treatment(s) are most likely to save our lives. Not to mention dealing with the cancer maelstrom.

So, with a shaky leap of even shakier faith, we cast the dice, hoping our medical decisions turn out in our favor.

***

“You are lucky,” says my cheerful radiation oncologist. “Radiation is safe. It will not harm you.” Her sunny disposition and cheerfulness is much needed during this shitty time. I’m comforted that the treatment protocol I chose based on the medical numbers and doctors’ advice will help destroy the cancer while sparing me.

When I finished radiation, the radiation oncologist and her staff gave me a signed certificate, a hearty congratulations, and ushered me out the door.

This was in 2001.

But I am frequently reminded that one is never, ever done with cancer.

A few years ago, I had been having difficulty breathing. My primary care physician had the balls to tell me what other doctors denied: that radiation treatment permanently damaged my lungs.”The lungs are right behind the breast,” he said before I went blank.

Unlike my previous primary care physician who was dismissive — telling me chemobrain was really age-related and treatment-induced bone density problems were due solely to menopause, this new doctor gave me a gift:

The Truth.

A pulmonologist concurred with the primary care physician. After a series of brutal tests that left me gasping for air, I was diagnosed with asthma and restrictive lung disease.

Although the condition is permanent, weight loss will help my lungs function better. That, and a daily inhaler, plus a rescue inhaler, are my friends. I am exercising regularly and eating well, but losing weight very slooooowly. But I won’t give up.

Last winter, we had a few horrifically cold days, and my lungs were not coping well, even though I wore a scarf over my mouth. My doctor gave me a stronger daily inhaler, as well as a device to measure if my lungs are getting enough air.

Like many people, I took breathing for granted.

I know I’m tough and will continue to practice self-care.

My health is my new religion.

I’m my own opus.

Art

A huge part of my self-care regimen, as you know dear readers, is art. Below is my latest landscape done in watercolors:

I am happy with the result, as I have improved drastically. But the reason I improved, believe it or not, is not because I’ve practiced a lot, but because I purchased better-quality watercolor paints, Winsor & Newton, which has a higher pigment load and more variety of colors than the set I previously was using. I also find them easier to use, with water not running everywhere as easily.

The Winsor & Newton paints were expensive, but they were so worth it, and I am thrilled with them.