Well, my second treatment was a bit harder than the first. We've been spending a lot of tome up at the cottage just to get away from the city and the heat (which I can't abide any longer, I need to be indoors between 11 and 3 at least), so we had come back from the country to go to my treatment and then scoot back up the next day. The wait was shorter this time only half an hour compared to the 3 hour delay last time. And it was quiet. Holiday Monday is the day to be at the Hospital! Anyway it went off without a hitch, the nurse was excellent and I've only got a small nickle sized bruise on the top of my hand from the IV. Chemo drugs are notoriously hard on your veins and in fact can damage them and collapse them permanently, that is why, often with longer treatments there are options for a semi permanent way to administer them. I decided I didn't want either option if I didn't have to, since I have a three year old climbing all over me most of the day, I just didn't want to risk injury to the site or damage, or hinder my ability to give my child the type of affection he is used to. So far so good. Six treatments seems like a lot but it's actually the shortest way to go, so I'm holding on to that. I need to hold on to something. Mentally this treatment(#2) has been more difficult all around. About day 17 my hair started to fall out, and I cut it down to 1 inch, then this week at the cottage I had a shower and lots and lots came out and it ended up looking a bit patchy and weird, so we drove into town and went to the old school Barber and had it buzzed off. That was a relief but my scalp feels prickly and sore when I wear a hat so I'm waiting until it's all gone to do that I think. Jake thinks it's funny that I have no hair which is a relief. The nausea was worse this time around, I did end up taking some of my in case of barfing extra meds they give you. Fortunately everyone piled into the car and went to the berry farm for the day and left me and B alone to watch movies and lie around. I really didn't have much energy and the heat during the day doesn't help. What sucks about the nausea is that while you don't want to barf, you are ravenous and want to eat all the things. I try and eat small amounts, but I feel like I'm constantly snacking. Sort of feeling full but slightly sick and still hungry. The oncologist did tell me that most women do gain weight while going through chemo, as the drugs make you feel hungry. Sigh. and then Jake saw me changing and said what's that? pointing at my belly, and I replied, that's mammas belly. Jake said nooooooo, it's not... too much food!!! From the mouth of babes right? Anyway, enough of that. The next day was a little better, and today much better. I was able to help wrangle all the kids and get the kitchen cleaned up and make dinner.
I'm not one for cheesy memes about self care, but I do like this one.
The thing that happened to me this time around, that didn't happen the first time, was the mental journey I took. It got scary. It got dark. real dark. I cried like someone had died. I felt helpless, and sick and scared and just so fucking worried about everything. It is really quiet up here when there aren't kids running around, and the nature here is so lovely, the breeze off the lake, the dappled sunlight on the wooden deck, the oversized chairs covered in cushions. It's an easy and gentle place to be, and when you are battling something so internally you really have no where to hide, you just have to sit in your perfect chair , on your perfect deck and drink your weird spur of the moment anti nausea concoction and think. Think about all the things. About being a child, about past abuses, about mistakes, about how sick you feel, about how much you'd give just to have a normal day to complain about anything other than the fact that you have something in your body that could kill you. And the fear. my god. fear like this would shrivel the testicles off a buffalo in a heartbeat. Just the fear of the unknown. Trying to look forward to the future and just feeling like it's a long tunnel, with, yes, a tiny light at the end but so so far away at this point. I had an expression I used to say when things went sideways or took an unexpected turn "Shit got real now, Dog". And it used to be funny. So yeah, that was a bad day. B held me while I sobbed and then I was really tired and slept deep. But I woke up feeling much better today, brighter, more myself and I hung out on the dock with my baby and sat in the shade and watched the others fish.
And I guess it will just go this way. Days of feeling bad, feeling afraid. Days of feeling good, strong determined. I absolutely believe in the treatment I have chosen, and I feel I am in the best hands possible for this fight. So there's that. The next treatment is July 24th and I'll be HALFWAY!!!!!!!!!! I can't wait....actually yes I can, I feel nauseous just thinking about going back to the hospital right now....But I want to reiterate I couldn't do this with as much strength and dignity without all of you messaging me and telling me you care. It really, really helps. seriously. P.M me on messenger or whatsappp if you'd like my snail mail as I love hanging my cards and notes up on the wall. Here's the sexy bald girl I see in my head.
Take care of each other. We are all we've got. Until next time. J.
I'm not one for cheesy memes about self care, but I do like this one.
The thing that happened to me this time around, that didn't happen the first time, was the mental journey I took. It got scary. It got dark. real dark. I cried like someone had died. I felt helpless, and sick and scared and just so fucking worried about everything. It is really quiet up here when there aren't kids running around, and the nature here is so lovely, the breeze off the lake, the dappled sunlight on the wooden deck, the oversized chairs covered in cushions. It's an easy and gentle place to be, and when you are battling something so internally you really have no where to hide, you just have to sit in your perfect chair , on your perfect deck and drink your weird spur of the moment anti nausea concoction and think. Think about all the things. About being a child, about past abuses, about mistakes, about how sick you feel, about how much you'd give just to have a normal day to complain about anything other than the fact that you have something in your body that could kill you. And the fear. my god. fear like this would shrivel the testicles off a buffalo in a heartbeat. Just the fear of the unknown. Trying to look forward to the future and just feeling like it's a long tunnel, with, yes, a tiny light at the end but so so far away at this point. I had an expression I used to say when things went sideways or took an unexpected turn "Shit got real now, Dog". And it used to be funny. So yeah, that was a bad day. B held me while I sobbed and then I was really tired and slept deep. But I woke up feeling much better today, brighter, more myself and I hung out on the dock with my baby and sat in the shade and watched the others fish.
And I guess it will just go this way. Days of feeling bad, feeling afraid. Days of feeling good, strong determined. I absolutely believe in the treatment I have chosen, and I feel I am in the best hands possible for this fight. So there's that. The next treatment is July 24th and I'll be HALFWAY!!!!!!!!!! I can't wait....actually yes I can, I feel nauseous just thinking about going back to the hospital right now....But I want to reiterate I couldn't do this with as much strength and dignity without all of you messaging me and telling me you care. It really, really helps. seriously. P.M me on messenger or whatsappp if you'd like my snail mail as I love hanging my cards and notes up on the wall. Here's the sexy bald girl I see in my head.
Take care of each other. We are all we've got. Until next time. J.