So time for a little confession. I felt like I had to write some sort of a blog for my last one because I hadn't posted any type of an update after 3b and I wanted to stay active on here - but as you could tell, there wasn't much to it. My mind was foggy, the words weren't coming to me, I could care less about typing at the time, so I just took the little I could pull together and - well it's your fault for reading it :-). I was telling Sarah last night that it just seemed like this last round hit me harder. I'm not sure why, especially because on Wednesday night I felt better than ever. I even biked 5 miles. Or maybe that was the problem. Very well could have been but my body wasn't screaming at me then and the post chemo drag I had wasn't bike-fatigue-like (if I can make that a word grouping). Normally by Sunday I'm definitely feeling better. This time the acid reflux was still coming and going, I was pulling myself through the multi-day hangover and the desire to just go and eat nasty, greasy food (which a nice pub burger and fries does still sound good) - it was hard to get going. On Sunday I intended to get out and ride and I know if I would have gotten out, I probably would have felt better, if not physically at least mentally - but I couldn't pull myself off the couch.
Monday felt a lot the same. The nausea wasn't the same, but I just wasn't feeling the best so finally I decided I couldn't just sit at my desk any longer so I just left (thank God I have a great job and a very supportive boss). Maybe it was God's way of forcing me outside. We had temps in the mid 50s, the sun was out, and I got home and decided it was time to hop on the bike and go outside. It was my first time riding outside since pre-cancer and damn did that fresh air feel nice. At first I thought it was going to be quite the challenge because I forgot that when you are outside the road doesn't stay flay like on rollers, but quickly I got into my groove and it felt good. I even regret that I didn't try to ride to work this morning - but maybe tomorrow. I know that will be a big hurdle to get over, but if I can just push myself to do it, the worst case scenario is that I need someone to give me a ride home and I'll get the bike the next day.
But I'm feeling better today - physically, mentally, and emotionally. I wanted to get up early this morning and do some riding just to start the day off, but sometime - too often - the bed is just so comfortable. I rolled over, gave Sarah a kiss on the forehead, and decided I could get up and exercise, or roll over and stay comfy with Nikki sleeping on my legs. Nikki let out a "why did you just wake me up groan" and I decided the bed was the best place for me. I'm feeling good about myself today and so I'll make up for it tonight.
Part of the drag was physical and part was emotional and mental. Chemo slows down the natural ways of your body - ask if you want more information. But I think that is half the battle - feeling like there is an anchor inside of you and you just want to remain in one spot with the TV on (which was really enjoyable last night watching the Aussie Open - shocking to what I woke up to though). But yes, this is all just as mentally and emotionally draining as physically. Now I dont like to go on the downer side because I want to and will remain a fighter, but its part of it. This last round of chemo was the hardest on me mentally and emotionally. I was feeling great - I hadn't felt so good walking into the infusion room since treatment 1A when I was just naive and didn't know what to expect. They poked my port and it all went downhill. Within a matter of 30 seconds I went from feeling great, thinking of all the cycling I did the week before, to the taste of saline, smell of sanitizer, and feeling the shackles of IV tubes reminding me that I'm sick. Shackles - that is exactly what it is. I know that some people say "well that is what is making you better" or "you just need to get through this - those 'shackles' are temporary and your cancer-free life with Sarah, Pip, and Nikki after this will go on til old age," but you go out there and find someone going through cancer treatment that looks at them as a good thing.
I know it is helping me. I know it is killing off those cancer cells. Unfortunately I even know it's killing off the good cells and God have mercy on me, giving me only limited long-term side effects, but it still sucks. No one can take that away from me. I thank God every day that I'm blessed with Sarah. She is so patient, loving, compassionate, and embracing of this. Last night when we were talking about it I could tell how much it hurt her just hearing me talk about it because I was holding it in for a few days. But sometime it is hard to let it out because so many people don't understand. Sarah doesn't understand because no one can unless they go through it, but she comprehends it from all of the patients she worked with on the oncology unit at Children's. Man am I lucky to have her!!
I thought it was funny talking to my dad the other night. He has, just as any parent would, taken this very personally. He was watching the end of the football games the other night and one of the players that was interviewed afterward made some comment to the effect of "life is hard, you just dont know what its like to work so hard and get that far in the season to have your Super Bowl hopes taken away." I'm just glad that that player wasn't within arms reach of my dad because that's one way to set him off on a rant of "what's hard in life" - he will tell you it is hard having your son going through this crap. Not that mom doesn't think it is hard, but when was the last time she yelled at the TV screen - Chrissy and I can tell you that growing up during football games it was dad in that position :-).
But through all of that, like I said earlier, I'm feeling better. Work today was really good. I feel good about myself (other than I ate too much - especially since I've gone up again and want to get those pounds off) and I really need to be appreciative of what I have. I have cancer for a reason. This cancer has changed me. I was told by a good friend that you will never be the same person you were pre-cancer. I guess instead of the calendar changing from BC to AD the rest of my life will be identified as the years PC (post cancer). It is hard to remember the good that is coming out of this - but I know that it's there. I dont know what it all is, but days like today I can look at myself and realize that although I was burning yesterday (literally my throat was from acid reflux), I have more of a shine. In fire gold is tested and I want the potter to keep molding my life. I have what is considered a "good cancer" or a "whimpy cancer" and in my experience it is. I unfortunately know of a man who is a week behind me in treatment (Stage 4 so please keep him in your prayers) and the treatment isn't going as well for him - he is suffering more from the nausea, more prolonged pain, etc. I pray that God takes that away from him and thank God that my "rough" days haven't been so rough. Another girl I know from college told me to allow myself 10 minutes of self pity a week and from there to move on. This week I think I've taken too much time since she went through the same treatment as I when she was pregnant.
I received an email today from one of my fellow cycling survivors (as a side note it really is a cool listserv - they are all so encouraging, such great fighters and people. It's a huge family, I kind of can relate it to a huge fraternity - its just that our pledging and registration fees were far too expensive) and at the end of the email was a statement that I thought was pretty powerful.
Some people say that the glass is half full and enjoy life - others say the glass is half empty. The fact is that there is liquid in the glass. How are you going to respond to it?
Keep praying!!!
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