Frozen

The cold never bothered Rudy

I’m a bit of a perfectionist. Who me? Right. I know. I’ve been working on it over the years and, believe it or not, have greatly relaxed and have even let go! In fact, I keep an Elsa on my desk to remind me to “let it go.” And yes, Disney characters do guide my soul. Whatever.

But I’m not an Elsa. I’m an Anna. And really, Anna has always been my favorite. She’s brave, determined, kind and loyal and has real strength and power in those characteristics rather than ice that shoots from her hands. She doesn’t hide away or back down. She’s a little naive — she wishes for the best in people! And, she loves love!

Elsa is afraid. Afraid of hurting people. Afraid of what others might think. She doesn’t take chances. She closes herself off to avoid hurting people but, in doing so, does far more damage. I’m perhaps too open of a book! Definitely not an Elsa.

The real reason I’m not an Elsa is that I hate the cold. The cold does bother me, anyway.

Side effects of taxol, one of the chemos I’m now on, include (among other super fun things) peripheral neuropathy or numbness, tingling and pain in the hands and feet. Yay!

To attempt to mitigate this, the use of ice gloves and socks is strongly recommended. So, ever the perfectionist, I showed up on infusion day with not one, but TWO pairs of socks and gloves in a giant cooler. It never crossed my mind how unbearably painful this seemingly simple task would actually be. I mean, I pretty much exist in a constant state of coldness — I’m used to it! How hard could this be?

I don’t know how long I made it before I tried to bail but I think saying ten minutes would be generous. This wasn’t walking without gloves on a chilly day, this was sticking your bare feet and hands into Icelandic snow for an hour.

I did get a bit of relief when I had a reaction to the chemo and the infusion had to be stopped. Yay again! (A minor and apparently very common reaction counteracted with enough Benadryl to make an elephant sleepy!)

I’m trying to prepare myself for the next round tomorrow. One unbearable hour is way better than two weeks of misery! The side effects outside of the infusion suite have greatly subsided with my largest complaint being fatigue. It’s a fair trade I wasn’t asked to make but I gladly have! Yet 60 minutes of hands and feet so cold it’s painful can feel like hours. And it’s difficult to keep myself otherwise occupied because my hands and feet are stuck in mittens! I can’t work or text or knit or play games — I can’t even flip the pages of a book! I’m stuck watching whatever I can find that’s good enough in the sea of mediocre streaming offerings and hoping it keeps my attention enough to temporarily ignore the pain.

Eleven rounds of chemo left. Two months and nine days until I ring the bell and close this chapter. Until my hair starts to grow back. Until my immune system makes a resurgence. I can’t wait to turn this page and never look back.

I’ve already learned a lot about myself from this process. I always felt I was strong, I’ve certainly always talked a big game, but now I know just how strong I am.

Yet in some ways I feel like I need to learn who I am all over again — I’m so different from pre-diagnosis Keri of January 1.

I do know I’m becoming more Anna every day. I’m letting things go. My anxiety is almost non-existent now. I still strive to perform in all aspects of my life — at work, for my kids, in my marriage — but if things don’t go to plan, so be it. The world isn’t ending, and I made my best effort. I’m proud of how I show up in all of those facets. I try hard, but I’m human.

And I need to allow myself to be human, which is to be imperfect. So maybe I’ll land somewhere in between Elsa and Anna after all.