I started chemotherapy again last week. The cycle is 3 weeks on, 1 week off, and they want me to do this for 3 months but I doubt I will agree to that long.
Last week was my first treatment since October and it was awful because it took 8 hours.
There were several reasons for this.
- Because it hadn’t been used for so long, my port got stuck
- So we had to do a line draw, which took time to fit in
- I still wanted to see the nurse before chemo, so that added more delays
- Once I actually got into the infusion room, because this was my first week in a 4 week course, I was to take two chemo drugs instead of one.
- Because it had been a while, the drips went at half speed.
My friend who had taken me had a meeting she had to get to. She had anticipated staying with me for 4–5 hours, not 8 and so she had to call another close friend to come switch places.
It was a mess.
This Monday things went much better. Just one drug, not two. My port worked fine. And the drip went at full speed.
However, by Wednesday afternoon I felt like cold vomit strewn across the living room floor. Fortunately, thanks to the latest in anti-nausea pills, I contained the spew instead of spreading it.
20 years ago, the first time I did chemo. I did throw up on the carpet, and fortunately my ex-husband cleaned it up. I guess he did love me after all.
In fact, he took very good care of me through the cancer — he made me fresh juice 3 times a day, bounced me on the mini-tramp when I was too weak to exercise, made me light organic meals, and set me up with I Love Lucy reruns while I lay in bed.
He also took me to appointments but didn’t want to hang out with me there because he had a hard time sitting still for that long. Which, being married to him, I understood was just part of who he was.
At that time, chemo made me want to give up and die because it was so awful.
This time it’s bad in different ways, but it’s still really bad.
This time they give you drugs to get you through the first couple of days but then things start kicking you back to the curb again.
So there I was, going back down that spiral.
I was feeling very ill and nauseous and then it hit me — I WANT TO LIVE! And I prayed, did some deep breathing, got up and exercised… I just kept saying to myself, over and over, I WANT TO LIVE!
That motivated me to touch my toes, do some stretches, walk around, lift my light weights a few times, do some knee bends, some breathing exercises, close my eyes and pray, then breathe some more…
And then all the darkness started to evaporate. It came back and I had to do some more deep breaths and more prayer and I still feel nauseous and miserably physically, but the part of me that connects with God and the Universe is strong again.
I am going to get through this.
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This post was previously published on Shefali O’Hara’s blog.
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The post Chemo Sucks appeared first on The Good Men Project.