Well, I think (knock on wood/or my not-yet-bald head) that I am through the yuckiest part of this round. Remains to be seen, so I'm not trying to tempt fate or anything here. I have to say that, knowing how this feels, it certainly makes gearing up for it several more times...harder. Not gonna lie. Har-der.
So I guess I would say, first of all, that I'm a fan of my anti-nausea meds. I did not get sick (yet), and I have only felt quesiness every now and then. So big yay for Big Pharma!! (Shhh...I did not type that.)
The hardest thing is to feel, and you'll have to excuse my description, that I was somehow encased in glass, spiky and fragile. And all I wanted to do was to break free and shatter all that glass...but I couldn't because this suffocatingly heavy, weighted blanket of sedative was settled all over me and I just couldn't move. So to be jumpy and twitchy and hand-shaky and anxious and have a weird nanosecond tracking lag when I turn my head and want to scream and yell but then to be sucked into a hot marshmallow of inertia...yeah, well, that about sums it all up. Sleeping yet wandering around like a ghost and unsettled and fidgety and tired yet awake. And the dreams! Oy! I'm a spectacularly vivid dreamer--I always have been. But these dreams have been so bad they had me almost weeping with relief that I woke up, even when I woke up thinking, "Oh shit, I've got cancer. Fuuuuuuck." Good times.
My family gets all the praise in the world. There is nothing they have not done for my comfort and care. Nothing. Did I tell you I'm a lucky gal?
Got the promised mouth sores on day 5; my go-to cancer research partner-in-crime got me set up on the approved mouth rinse, so that hasn't been so bad this time. I keep saying "this time" because I know that sometimes the side effects of chemo are cumulative. So never say never on any of this, I suppose.
It is a strange kind of thing to go through, sort of what you go through when a loved one dies. Your world has ground to this halt, and for everyone else the world just goes on. And I feel a little like I was this book, just hanging out on my place on the shelf, kinda halfway through, had my past and my future, just kicking it with all the rest of y'all on the bookshelf. And then somebody plucked me off the shelf, ripped this one page I'm on out of the book, took the book and stuck my stupid ass one-word page that says CANCER back on the shelf. And then they just snugged those books to the right and left up tight, and there I was. I lost my place on the shelf. I'm just that one page.
So THAT was a poor, pitiful Pearl moment there, for sure. Yes, I did get a little weepy during this one point, by myself. But you have to reframe it, right? So really, the books are snugged up tight to keep me standing. It's my friends and family. And when I'm ready to take up my space on the shelf, no one is going to begrudge me shoving over a bit. There's plenty of room for everyone, right?
And for those who are betting: The hair, the hair, the hair is still there! ;-)
The book is there; this is a plot twist. (A rather crap one!) That mid-story direction change to reveal the depth of the dragon's strength and character. And so that we can see you in a hooker wig (if need be).
ReplyDeleteI can't imagine anyone begrudging you space on the shelf. Your mum just sends me abridged versions of this wonderful tale as it's being written, and I've enjoyed it so far. I imagine it's an even richer tale for those who are closer.
((HUGS))
Going through chemo is an experience that's difficult to explain but you did so perfectly. You brought that jittery yet exhusted feeling right back to mind.
ReplyDeleteYou are a magnificent writer, Andrea, and I know it helps to have an activity to channel your creative energies.. Even though the story is getting darker, touches of humor still shine through and I know you're staying strong. Hang tough girl...
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