Paris therapy

I'm back from Paris today. I'm tired and sore, but happy we went. I think it's fantastic what C. de Lune got to experience at such a young age. By yesterday she was a genuine city dweller, navigating the metro and the crowds like a pro, eating baguette with pâté de campagne and cheese most kids wouldn't touch. It was a good idea to rent an apartment for the week, since I got tired and achy quickly. Getting up in the mornings was a challenge too--my body gets stiff from staying still and I feel like I'm a 100 years old. I tend to forget the severity of what I've been through in the last year and wonder why I can't keep up. I read an article in a French magazine on the plane back that reminded me. The author talked about her model mother dying from cancer. She thought cancer was the result of sadness and loneliness (cancer is still very taboo in France I was told), and she compared chemo to an atomic bomb. She said that if you're not an amazingly strong person, it kills you. I don't remember it being THAT bad, but I get the idea. Actually, the magazine had a full spread on breast cancer for October, with 10 celebrities showing their breasts to promote early detection. I felt I was shopping for new breasts --small ones, big ones, pink ones, brown ones, etc. There was a lot of great information about "supporting" treatments like stress management, diet, exercise etc, and making them an official part of treatment like chemo is. It's been proven that they reduce the chance of recurrence by a landslide. The article also confirmed a lot of my thoughts and conclusions about our environment and it's effect on cancer cells --see my new blog MoreofLess for more info.

Now that I'm back, "real" life will start again very soon and breast cancer month is just around the corner. I'm not sure how well I'll do around all that awareness --I'll have to wait and see. Tomorrow I start my Tamoxifen. The pills look normal but I know they pack a hard punch. Hopefully, they punch cancer out, not me. Seeing the beautiful, impressive French National Archives building made me depressed about going back to work. I don't know how tired I'll get, but that's why I'm going back slowly and pacing myself. Not going back is not an option though, because my brain is now at the melting point. I'll let you know how it all goes down.