Ice Breaker

I giggled to myself two nights ago in bed, and I giggled with Mamma Jones last night in my bed. The exciting life I lead. I was giggling because after my day out on Tuesday, I realised something. I realised what transplant related story, I was happy to share with people as a form of banter, to get out of the inevitable questions I am going to get when I return to my beat. At the moment, one thing is true, I cannot talk about my transplant and illness without feeling emotional. I know for a fact that I would not want this emotion to happen in public, so, there has to be an accepted topic that I can get animated about, and use to portray, that cancer is not a big deal at all. It’s dead easy in fact. The accepted conversation is going to go something like this:

Caring Individual: [they may or may not be inclined to tilt their head to the side] How are you? How are you feeling?
Me: Fine thanks [pause and hope that will be the end of the conversation]
CI: So, are you feeling okay?
Me: [smiles] I’m just bloody relieved those burps have stopped. They don’t tell you about that one. I just burped all the time. Sip of water, burp. I was burping all over the place. And the strange thing about these burps, the sound of my burps changed…. I’m a big girl. I can do some big burps, but with the transplant, I did baby burps. Teeny tiny, cute little burps…. It’s all linked in with tummy problems I had following the chemo. It was just bloody embarrassing. Imagine, you and I could be having a cup of tea, and uncontrollably, I would have to burp in your face. All the elegance would go out the window. Gosh, [fake laughs], that wouldn’t have happened in my former life until at least six pints of Kronenberg. [Still laughing]
CI: [content] wow, that is so strange…

Me: Yeah, so like I said, I am feeling much better.*

I suppose, I could take somebody’s wise and dogged advice, but it does not work. I have tried it for 362 days. Obviously, there are some people to whom I would share more information, but there is a time and a place for these things, and it is my experience that the probe comes at the least suitable time, without a curtain, in full view of strangers and/or people whose view of me should be ‘bad ass’. I need a plan. I need back up. And this is it. Just do not tell anybody.

I would also be willing to share with people the fact that I have lost all my bum hair, but that sort of thing should be saved for the close friends I think. Society tells me so.


* subject to some improvisation if required. May include a demonstration.

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One thought on “Ice Breaker

  1. Terri J says:

    Today is a year since our daughter, Sara, went into the Bone Marrow Transplant unit at Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia, PA, USA to prepare for her transplant. We are going to celebrate her transplanniversary. A year out the topic doesn’t come up much except with me asking what the doctor said or how she is feeling. Fatigue still hits at times but she has a busy life with work & socializing. I think her only limitations now are no bunji jumping or skydiving.

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