Dance!!!!!!

http://ayprecovery.org/blog-92-lasik-vision-utopian-vision/ I love listening to music… Like loooooooooooove!!!! My earphones are the first things to go into my bag. I panic everytime I dive into my bag only to realise they are not in there. That is when I do something most women know all too well. I empty out my bag, a bag that carries most of my life. I get frantic as I sift through what then seems like unnecessary stuff until I find them. When they are safely in my hands I return  EVERYTHING back in my bag because my whole existence depends on  it all. Really it does!!! No matter how tiny a womans bag is, she will always manage to pull out of it things that will make most magicians/illusionisist jealous!!!”. But that is not what I want to blog about.

I love listening to music when I’m up and about(hence the earphones drama) because it is in those moments that my life makes sense. It is in those moments that I organise my thoughts and feelings and when I am in a good place, it is in those moments  I dance. I love this quote by Rumi.

http://countryqwips.com/product/woo-ninja-2/?add-to-cart=56 Dance when you are broken open, Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you are perfectly free”.

Fighting cancer is a battle. It takes over your life. You wake up and sleep cancer. You think and talk cancer. You may not want to but your life suddenly revolves around it. You become your sickness. People start walking on egg shells around you. You can almost see them thinking: “Do we ask her how she is doing? Do we laugh? Maybe we should not look so happy while she is clearly going through a bumpy ride”. *Do you remember that song??? oohhhhh I used to love it*.. Ok,,, focus Sals!!!

Now you all know my Pre Chemo rituals. They involve????? Yep you guessed it……. Dancing.    11354402_10153018798203720_1070446810_o

In the beggining the sessions were shuddersome but with each session my fear subsided and a sense of relief took over. Infact I was looking forward to my sixth session. I woke up blithesome. I decided to wear my long kitenge skirt,(partly because it’s beautiful and partly because I could wear an adult pamper underneath without looking like I belong in 1. A mental insitution and 2. An old peoples home). Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with being old or mentally unstable. After last sessions toilet marathon and having to undress, I was not taking any chances……Nope I wasn’t!!! My not so little brother dropped us off at the hospital. Now ladies if he was not taken I would auction him off to the highest bidder. He has turned out well and I am so proud of myself,,, oohh and our mother,,, and him,,, but mostly me(sorry mom but this is my blog)

Billions of billions blue blistering barnacles! Thundering typhoons!. I thought I had gotten used to Chemo. First of all not a single nurse can ever find my veins. No matter how many times I tell them that I usually get sent to the surgery wing for an anestiologist to do it, there is ALWAYS that one nurse that thinks they can hack it…..ALWAYS. I had gotten so used to this that I would slap my hand(to make the veins visible) on their behalf… “Naaahhh no need to slap me around, let me do it for you,,,,Yeeeeeees I’m sure….Slap harder? Suuuuuuure why not!!!”…. They would poke around, tell me how hard it is to find my veins(Duuhhhh told you!!). Another nurse whould  be called, I would get poked around some more and then FINALLY I would get  wheeld the surgery wing.
Then there is that itchy feeling you get when the salt solution starts running through your veins. Everything itches, from my toes to the hairs on my legs, even my teeth itch. Seriously everything itches. The second the Chemo drug hit my veins I thought,  “Hey this is new”. The pain was different. I can’t remember if I cried, but chances are I did. And chances are I did not care. I do however remember being glad  I had decided to rock my kitenge skirt, not because I had to wear a diaper but because it made marathoning(is this even a word?) my way to the little girls room easy. I rememeber having to decide what I wanted to do first, throw up or down. 4 hours later I was on my way home. “Tony pole(sorry) but I think I might have needed a diaper after all, you might need to wash your car”. That’s what I told my brother with a smile on my face because I was a session closer to getting this ordeal over and done with.

I had been dancing in the middle of this battle. I had been dancing as I slowly tore the cancer bandage off. I had been broken open and still managed to dance here and there.

I was looking forward to Dancing because with Jehovash’ s help I had fought and won.