Looking in the Mirror. Oh Dear.

A very busy week indeed between unpacking and radiation treatments. I've spent the last few hours moving a few things around the apartment to make it easier on me in preparation for the weeks ahead. I'd put some frequently used items out of reach and found myself grabbing a stepladder too many times a day. I met the previous tenants of my place, they're not much taller than I am - it's got me wondering just how gigantic someone before them must have been to put shelves and the bedroom clothes rod so darned high!

I worked up a bit of a sweat lugging and shifting things about and stripped down to a tank top to feel cooler as I worked on the front hall closet where I'm placing my hospital "kits"; various bags that accompany me depending on whether I'm doing a short trip like the radiation appointments this week, the bag that comes when there's a risk of an overnight stay and the emergency room bag. I know, you're wondering how you can have a life as exciting and adventurous as mine. Sorry to leave you so envious, I get to keep all these thrills to myself.

As I turned to move one of the bags I caught a glance of myself in the hallway full length mirror and startled myself. And not in a good way. Who was this bony, gaunt woman looking back at me? As we women do, I went to get a handmirror to see how things checked out from the back; it had been a very long time since I'd done so. Where the heck was the rest of me?

My pacemaker sticks out just below my collarbone like nobody's business (ick alert - you can clearly make out the wires and the ridges on the device. If I looked hard enough I'd not be surprised to make out the serial number), and my size zero jeans hang off the edges of my hipbones (I'm really painting quite a sexy image here, aren't I? Hold yourselves back gentlemen!) The frightening thing is that I've gained back about fifteen pounds since hitting my lowest point about four months ago.

When did it happen that I began to look so fragile? And how did I not snap in two fifteen pounds ago? Incentive enough to not complain again about the high calorie nutritional shakes I down first thing every morning. On second thought, they remain completely unappealing and I reserve the right to resent needing to drink them.