The Myth of Linear Progression - August 2021

 "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt."

    ~Margaret Atwood

Kia ora whānau, I hope all is well with you. Meteorologically speaking spring doesn't start in NZ until the 1st of September, but don't tell the daffodils. This episode was originally going to be about the joy of spring, and how everything was progressively getting brighter and better, but it's actually going to be about the myth of everything getting brighter and better in a progressive and steady way.

 

Craft

Buoyed by the success of my teal Cuff Dress I foolishly moved onto a new pattern without doing a practice run on cheaper fabric. I also attempted to bugger about with sizing which didn't go so well and needed some jenky alterations. I have ended up with a dress that fits, and as it's a wrap dress it'll expand and shrink with me, so all is well, but now I know to ALWAYS DO A TRIAL RUN.

Brown bald rabbit

I was fooled into thinking that because I made the teal dress without too many dramas I'd be incrementally better at sewing when making the brown dress. I allowed myself to believe in the myth of linear progress. I forgot that I did a trial run on the teal dress. I didn't factor in that the wrap dress pattern was way more complex. I assumed that I'd just get better at sewing. Magically. This was not the case and the brown dress caused many headaches.

Anyway... in case my spoon-friends are wondering why I'm always wittering on about dresses and jewellery and not talking about spoons, I've avoided carving while on chemo as any cuts can easily get infected while my immunity is low. I'll leave the carving until after I'm healed from my next operation - probably around February 2022.

This month most of my creative energies have been poured into clearing the back yard in preparation for getting builders in to make us a covered porch with laundry. My partner has done an incredible job of digging up tree stumps; and now that we know the boundaries of our back yard I've been clearing right up to them, to give us a lovely big lawn.

Once the building work starts next door we will want to be as far away from it as possible, so we are focussing our creative vision on the garden at the moment. Which is my way of saying I've not made anything other than the brown dress this month!

Season

Imbolc, or the beginning of spring, is marked in the Southern Hemisphere in early August. I can't help but spend time in the garden, enjoying the longer days and trying to get ahead of the mad spring growth of lawns and plants. With a deadline of the builders arriving in early September - obviously this was before NZ went into Lockdown Level 4 - we had a huge tree cut down that needs chopping up, and we had to clear the ground where the new porch will be built.

Gardening makes me feel like myself again, and I so totally overdid it the first weekend, of course. It felt so damn good to be outside and seeing the world (and me) come back to life. Here in the Wellington region we have six seasons and we are currently in Spring 1. This is where the weather is often lovely and we all get tricked into thinking that it'll be a fantastic long summer this year. Lol. Come the first of September we'll be in Shitsville until at least Christmas - rain, wind, cold, the works. Hence my drive to be outside now.

We don't live here for the weather

Shitsville is another example of the myth of linear progression. So often I think that the weather will move evenly from winter into summer. My sewing results will always improve. Each spoon I make will be better than the last. I will get better after each treatment with no backward steps. This is, evidently, complete bullshit.

I think we also get fooled into thinking that's how life should be... each job will have a higher-status title and more money, each car will be fancier, each television more enormous. And if it doesn't go like that then we feel like we are failing. I'm finding myself being managed by people who are younger than me, and I'm seeing people move up the career ladder, far beyond me. I sometimes worry that I'm falling behind, and then I realise that even with all the crap that comes with cancer treatment I'm the calmest and happiest that I've ever been as an adult. So I'm progressing, according to my own values, but it probably doesn't look like that from the outside.

Sometimes I forget - there are always more ladders 

 

A couple of years ago I decided that my mental health was more important than constantly having to prove myself, over and over again... it was exhausting and frustrating. By choosing to take a few steps down the career ladder my ego has occasionally taken a battering, but I get to enjoy the view and there's not so far to fall. Not to disregard those who enjoy challenging themselves and achieving career success, but recognising that it wasn't for me - within the tech world at least - has been really freeing.

Health

My first few rounds of Paclitaxel went so well I was lulled into a false sense of linear progress. Even though I knew that its affects are cumulative and I'd probably feel worse as the treatment went on I let myself believe I was on an efficient march out of chemo ickiness. My hair started to return - as fuzz at least, and the brain fog lifted. I was a special bean who wouldn't be affected like the others. I'm not like the other girls. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha I'm an idiot.

But you know what? Life is messy and unpredictable and non-linear and I’m actually ok with that. I’m sure I’ll spend the rest of my life being caught out by the myth of linear progression, but that’s all part of the deal I suppose.

I'll spare you the gory details, but Paclitaxel treatment has been sporadically unpleasant and humbling. Don't worry, I'm ok, and most days I can pretend nothing is amiss. But this is a big thing to go through and some days are just bad days. My daily life looks a lot more like the scribble graph than the linear one, but I have much to be grateful for and most of the time I feel pretty good - or at least a solid ok.

As of this week I've passed the Paclitaxel halfway point - only six more weeks to go. But the oft-promised nerve damage is tingling its way into my arms and hands, and I'm worried about the next 6 treatments as I don't want to live with nerve pain and loss of function forever. I can handle a few months - years even, but I don't want this to get worse or become chronic. But my cancer was an aggressive one that I don't want to come back. It's complex for sure, and unfortunately there are no guarantees either way - everyone is different. So I'm currently trying to weigh the balance of continuing and potentially losing hand function, my balance, or having chronic pain - versus stopping early and risking cancer's return. Fun times.

This way to the drugs!

Happily, treatment continues throughout all lockdown levels, and I'm very grateful for that. I've had my first vaccine, and my partner is fully vaccinated. We have had no trouble getting food, and we are pretty happy at the cottage. As you may have already deduced, I live in lockdown most of the time, regardless of Covid. Partly because I love being home, but mostly to avoid the germs and exhaustion that come from being out in the world.

Having the rest of the country on lockdown is such a treat - car-free streets and birdsong are two of my very favourite things! The reduction in the mental load of normal life has opened up space to reflect and I've had a few a-ha! moments. Probably also helped by the fact that on this lockdown I'm not drinking all the weird shite at the back of the booze cupboard, since I don't really drink anymore. Booze is bad for boobs! Not sure if that's a permanent state of affairs, we'll get through treatment first and see.

Being constantly sober has definitely helped me mentally sort through some things and come to some decisions. Something I figured out recently is that I'm an auditory learner - I learn best by hearing information. And I've realised that this is why I find noise so difficult to cope with - particularly competing noises. I'd happily take a shotgun to a stereo these days, if it was on at the same time as the telly.

So that was August - one month closer to the end of chemo, which means one month closer to the dreaded mastectomy. But one month nearer treatment being behind me, so I'll take the wins where I can!

September will be exciting with the building work beginning - having an outside laundry means we will have more space in the kitchen, and having a lovely big deck means we can sit at a table and shuck peas and put the world to rights as the sun slides behind the trees. Heavenly! I wish you a wonderful spring or autumn and I thank you for reading along.