Take a ride on the Reading

Cancer takes things from you.  It has taken my inhibitions.   That happens after being felt up and stared at by more doctors, nurses, medical assistants, techs, and med students than I can count.  Hopefully they were all hospital employees.  It has taken my taste buds.  I literally cover all my food in hot sauce and peppers just so I can taste it.  It tried to take my hair, but I got the last laugh when I realized that I actually like my mane super short.  HA!

But I never thought it would take the activity that is nearest and dearest to my heart.

You see, my friends, I cannot read.

Clearly, I don’t mean that in a literal sense.  I still look at the page, and the collection of motley symbols crystallizes into prose like magic, and I am whisked away to far off places.  But I can’t make myself sit down and actually read the entire book.  I now careen through life with dozens of partially read books in my wake.  I used to devour books, now I sit down to read one and think, meh, maybe I’ll just watch a movie.  What???

It is called chemo brain, and the struggle is very real.

According to MD Anderson Cancer Centers, some symptoms of chemo brain include:
  • Difficulty concentrating on a single task
  • Problems with short-term memory; forgetting details of recent events
  • Feeling mentally “slower” than usual
  • Confusing dates and appointments
  • Misplacing objects
  • Fumbling for the right word or phrase

This last one is the reason you can find me standing in the middle of the kitchen frantically pointing at the stove, with no idea what the big hunk of metal is called.

This lack of focus does not extend to my work life.  I hit the office and immerse myself in the fascinating world of numbers with an intensity I haven’t felt in years.  We tussle, we fight, sometimes there is foul language, but at the end of the day, I’ve solved the puzzle, and all is right with the world. My superpower? I create order out of numeric chaos.  I am Nancy Drew, charging around in my roadster looking for clues.  I am Hercule Poirot using my little grey cells to ferret out what is missing from the picture.  I am Kinsey Millhone, drinking cheap wine and piecing disparate bits of information into a patchwork quilt of problem solving.

Just call me the numeric detective.

What I am not anymore, however, is a reader.  I have tried books on tape, but I would frankly rather watch a movie.  Reading gives me a headache.  I also can’t remember what I have read by the next page, so I have to constantly re-read passages.  Words no longer flow like a peaceful river; instead it is like a slow moving bed of lava.  It hurts. Ever been stabbed in the back by your best friend?  Yes, it is that level of emotional pain.

I am coming to terms with my limitations.  I find other ways to occupy my mind and combat the chemo brain.  My planner and a stack of notebooks accompany me everywhere.  My best buddy gave me a sudoku-a-day calendar that is my daily mind warmup.  I don’t blank out quite as often in the middle of sentences anymore.  I still hope to find that literary drive again.  To be a bookworm extraordinaire. An ultimate nerd.

Or to quote Ms.Millhone –

“There were pieces missing yet but they would fall into place and then maybe the whole of it would make sense.” 
― Sue GraftonA is for Alibi
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