Mingitel päevadel ei tunne ma end absoluutselt ära. Tõsi on see, et mul on ikka veel raskusi hommikul ärkamisega. Ma väsin ruttu. Midagi valutab pidevalt kuskilt, peamiselt on see käsi, mis valutab, aga ega muud kehaosad ka alla jää. Jube tüütuks on muutunud näiteks ära lõigatud rinna sügelus ja valusööstud.

EMOs käik tõi endaga kaasa üllatava diagnoosi – hiline kiiritusravijärgne naha ülitundlikkus vms ja põletik. Ravi oli loomulikult antibiootikumidega. Õnneks aitas hästi. Selle naha ülitundlikkusega on mul ilma põletikutagi umbes ülepäeviti probleeme. Parem käsi, õigemini selle nahk, muutub nii hellaks, et ka kõige õrnem puudutus tundub valusa põletusena. Ranne on jätkuvalt stabiilselt valus. Ma olen nüüdseks leppinud, et see ei muutugi vist enam kunagi. Õpin sellega lihtsalt elama.

Kõlab lollilt, aga olen harjunud ka sellega, et iga kolme nädala tagant tekivad suhu täpselt samadesse kohtadesse kolm haavandit, mis püsivad päevi. Suure varba küüned ähvardavad jälle ära kukkuda. Aasta pärast karmi keemiaravi viimast küüru ületades on varbaküüntega ikka veel probleeme. Sama on näiteks seest katkise ninaga. Olen proovinud seda erinevate looduslike ja apteegiravimitega korda saada, aga edutult. Vasak ninasõõre on seest katki, veritseb ja ei taha terveks saada. Nii ma siis nokin ja veritsen.

Kahtlustan, et mul on tekkinud peas ka selline hirmulaadne tunne, kus iga kõrvalekalle tekitab paanikat ja hirmu, kas vähk on tagasi. Kas see on nüüd peas, maksas, kopsus, ninas? Kus vähk end peidab? Loodetavasti mitte kuskil. Ma kontrollin oma nahka, sünnimärke, kõike pisut liiga agaralt. Nii tuletan endale pidevalt meelde, et liigne agarus on ogarus.

Aga, on ka palju positiivselt. Ma hakkan vaiskelt jälle endale meeldima. Juuksed – nii paksud ja tugevad pole need mul kunagi olnud – kasvavad mühinaga. Tuju on pigem hea. Muidugi tuleb ikka veel ka murdumishetki, aga õnneks on mul hea psühhiaater ja psühholoog.

Kaal liigub vaikselt aga stabiilselt jälle alla. Võrreldes keemiaravi tippkaaluga olen praegu 11 kilo kergem. Selle kaalu teema juures olen aru saanud, et ma ei tohi ette võtta pikki lennureise, sest mingil seletamatul põhjusel olen mõlemal korral Eestis käies võtnud 5-6 kilo juurde ja nende maha saamine on siis jälle omaette töö.

Ma olen rõõmsam, teen rohkem, tahan vaikselt osaleda jälle laste koolielus. Ei, lastevanemate klubisse ma praegu veel tagasi ei trügi, ehk järgmisel aastal. Aga tahan olla rohkem teadlik. Tahan jälle näha siinseid sõbrannasid, muuta tugevamaks häid tutvusi, Suhelda, olla, nautida.

Üks tegevus, mille ma olen siin tõsisemalt käsile võtnud, on kodu parendamine (ei oska seda muud moodi väljendada), õmblemine, küpsetamine ja aias taimeala korda tegemine. Elutuba on peaaegu valmis. Mõned pildid on veel vaja raamida ja seina panna, toolid mustaks värvida ja neile katted peale õmmelda. Üks minu enda jaoks üsna suur projekt, mille just lõpetasin, on kellegi ära visatud tumbale uue kuue andmine. See sama tumba on siin pildil ka. Seal on näha ka, mida ma trummi- ja kitarrinurgaga tegin. Tõstsime riiulid ümber, võõpasin need mustaks, paigaldasime valgustuse ja voilaa, peaaegu nagu uus.

Homme on onkoloogiga kohtumine. Näis, mida ta kostab, aga esmaspäeval vereproove andes tuli õdedel viis korda mind torkida, et kaks ampullitäit verd kätte saada. Kogu see lõpuks ligi 40 minutit kestnud protseduur oli valus, kurnav ja hirmutav. Port ei töötanud, vasaku käe ainus veel kuidagi tuntav veen ei töötanud ja paremat kätt tuli neil ka kolm korda torkida. Tegelikult ei tohi näiteks tavaõed vasakut kätt puutuda, aga onkoõed võivad, sest nemad pidavat oskama aeglaselt verd võtta. Kas järgmised korrad hakkavad samasugused olema? Kui jah, siis ma võtan järgmisel korral kellegi teise funktsioneerivate veenidega käe kaasa.

Mu peas on ka pidevalt küsimused, millele ma ei oska vastata… Kes ma nüüd olen? Kas ma olen ikka veel vähihaige? Kas ma olen remissioonis? Kas ma olen terve? Kes ma olen? Kes ma olla tahan?

ENG

Some days, I barely recognise myself at all. The truth is, I still struggle to wake up in the mornings. I get tired quickly. Something always hurts somewhere. Mostly it’s my arm, but the rest of my body certainly doesn’t want to be left out. One thing that has become incredibly annoying, for example, is the itching where my breast was removed, along with sudden bursts of pain.

A trip to the emergency department brought an unexpected diagnosis: some kind of delayed post-radiotherapy skin hypersensitivity and inflammation. The treatment was, naturally, antibiotics. Fortunately, they worked well.

Even without the inflammation, I have problems with this skin hypersensitivity roughly every other day. My right arm – or rather, the skin on it – becomes so sensitive that even the lightest touch feels like a painful burn. My wrist is still constantly painful. By now, I’ve more or less accepted that perhaps it will never change. I’m simply learning to live with it.

It sounds ridiculous, but I’ve also got used to the fact that every three weeks, three ulcers appear in my mouth in exactly the same places and stay there for days. My big toenails are threatening to fall off again. A year after getting over the final hurdle of brutal chemotherapy, I’m still having problems with my toenails.

The same goes for the inside of my nose. I’ve tried various natural remedies and pharmacy treatments to heal it, without success. The inside of my left nostril is damaged, it bleeds, and it simply refuses to heal. So there I am, picking and bleeding.

I suspect I’ve also developed a kind of fear in my head where every little abnormality triggers panic and the question: has the cancer come back? Is it in my brain now? My liver? My lungs? My nose? Where is the cancer hiding? Hopefully nowhere.

I check my skin, my moles, everything, probably a little too obsessively. And then I have to keep reminding myself that too much vigilance can become its own kind of madness.

But there are plenty of positive things too. I’m slowly starting to like myself again. My hair – it has never been this thick or strong in my life – is growing like crazy. My mood is mostly good. Of course, I still have moments when I fall apart, but fortunately I have a good psychiatrist and psychologist.

My weight is slowly but steadily going down again. Compared with my highest weight during chemotherapy, I’m now 11 kilos lighter. And when it comes to weight, I’ve realised that apparently I must not take long-haul flights, because for some inexplicable reason, both times I’ve travelled to Estonia I’ve gained five or six kilos, and then losing those kilos again becomes a whole project of its own.

I’m happier. I do more. I’m slowly starting to want to be involved in my children’s school life again. No, I’m not forcing my way back into the parents’ club just yet – maybe next year. But I want to know more about what’s going on. I want to see my friends here again, turn good acquaintances into closer friendships. Talk. Be present. Enjoy life.

One thing I’ve started taking much more seriously here is improving our home, I don’t really know how else to describe it, as well as sewing, baking and getting the planting area in the garden back into shape.

The living room is almost finished. There are still a few pictures that need framing and hanging, the chairs need to be painted black, and I need to sew covers for them.

One fairly big project for me that I’ve just finished was giving a new life to an ottoman that someone had thrown away. It’s the same ottoman you can see in the photo here. You can also see what I did with the drum and guitar corner. We rearranged the shelving, I painted it black, we installed lighting and voilà – almost like new.

Tomorrow I have an appointment with my oncologist. We’ll see what they have to say. But when I went for blood tests on Monday, the nurses had to stick me with a needle five times before they managed to get two tubes of blood. The whole process ended up taking almost 40 minutes and was painful, exhausting and frightening.

My port didn’t work. The only vein in my left arm that can still somehow be found didn’t work either, and they had to try my right arm three times as well. Normally, regular nurses aren’t even allowed to touch my left arm, but apparently oncology nurses can, because they know how to draw blood slowly. Are all my future blood tests going to be like this? If so, next time I’m bringing someone else’s arm with functioning veins.

And there are also questions constantly running through my head that I don’t know how to answer… Who am I now? Am I still a cancer patient? Am I in remission? Am I healthy? Who am I? And who do I want to be?