This last week I was sad. And mad.
That's a pretty terrible way to start a blog post. Please don't leave!
I had my treatment last Tuesday. It was a LONG day at the hospital. It started when our alarm didn't go off, and Jeff and I were set into a bag packing frenzy to try and get to the hospital for 8AM. We made it, and ended up waiting until 9:30 to get started. I guess it can be common to have an allergic reaction to Taxotere, so they administer it slowly the first time to ensure you're not allergic. I didn't end up leaving until around 4. In total I was there for a full 8 hours! That feels like a long time when you're chained to a bed and hooked up to an IV. They sent me on my way and told me to expect "flu like symptoms" and for my worst days to likely be Thursday and Friday. I was exhausted, so by the time I came home, Jeff and I hung out and went to bed. I waited for side effects to hit, and none came.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were similar. I was SO careful: I napped a lot (I think this is just because I love naps though, and not from the chemo), and waited for side effects to hit. Nothing came.
You know how every March here in Ottawa, we get that warm day that makes us feel like Spring is around the corner? We start to put away our winter boots, the snow is melting, our hopes are high...and then, inevitably, a snowstorm hits. We all know it's coming, but we indulge ourselves in believing that maybe, maybe this year will be different.
Yeah, that was a lot like chemo #4 for me. By Friday night, I had myself thinking "This Taxotere stuff is a joke!"; that I had escaped this one with NO side effects. On the Friday I even went out into the market and browsed around Rideau. 8 hours in the hospital with multiple bags of drugs flushed into me? No side effects? Really Sam?? What was I thinking.
Around Friday night my neck started to get a little sore. I didn't think much of it. If a sore neck was the only pain I had from this round, I would be a happy girl.
As you can probably guess, on Saturday morning, I woke up and I was sure that I had been in a major car accident. I could. not. move. My neck was stiff, I couldn't move my shoulders, I could barely make it up to go to the bathroom. I winced with every step I took. I still told myself, the pain is better then the foggy nausea I'd experienced with the FEC.
On Sunday I woke up, and was equally as sore as I was Saturday, if not more so. But to add to the mix, the gastro pains I felt were easily one of the most uncomfortable and painful things I've had to experience in my life so far (I can already picture Jeff telling me I'm being overly dramatic: but it's TRUE!). I've been resistant to taking sleeping pills and other stronger drugs prescribed to me, but my grandma sent me a message telling me "They don't give out prizes for bravery", so I kept the extra strength Tylenol going every 4 hours.
The Grammy's were on last Sunday night and I was stoked. I LOVE awards shows. Awards season is my thing. I never miss one. I flip back and forth between every feed of red carpet footage. I hate the mani-cam. I always know all the contenders and have a fairly decent idea of who the "favorites" are. I anxiously await seeing George Clooney at every event. So when I say I actually had to miss them because I was too sick... as in, I was too sick to EVEN WATCH TV. Come on, watching TV takes no strength at all. That's how you know it was bad.
I yelled to Jeff from my room about how I thought I may be dying, and how I literally thought my stomach may explode like something weird I'd seen in the Walking Dead (new obsession). It was in that moment I started closing my eyes and thinking how there is absolutely no way I can do this again. I can't go through it a second and third time with my next treatment. The sore bones, sore body, puffy face, the intense stomach pains. I don't want to do this anymore. I dreamed up how I would walk into my oncologist office and say I QUIT. I quit this chemo thing. No more for me. I can't do it.
So, this is why I have been sad this last week. Handling your mental health is equally as important as trying to manage your physical health.
I'd lost the fight in that moment. I really did. I started to have a defeatist attitude. I normally comfort myself with strong words: You have been given this battle because you can fight it. You are able to win. You have the strength. You can endure anything. You can and will push through this. The pain is temporary. This will pass. You have your whole future ahead of you. What you go through now is so you can live for years to come. I have never allowed myself to even THINK "I can't do this anymore". I've been sad, afraid, but until then, I've never been beaten down.
I started looking in the mirror and seeing the shell of the human I used to be. I was mad. I was so, so mad. My face was swollen, bloated. I have gained weight since this whole ordeal and my body feels foreign to me now. I have always had a physically demanding job so I've always felt strong. Now, I can barely walk down the road without losing my breath. My body is literally trying to kill me. I don't look like me, I don't feel like me.
I went shopping this week and just got angry there too. Normally I feel happiest when I'm shopping. Instead, I felt angry that everyone else around me seemed to be enjoying their weekend off: they probably had plans to have drinks with friends, get their hair done, and go back to work on Monday feeling refreshed for their work week. I envied their routine.
I went to Chapters Barrhaven and turned right back around and left. I was just reminded of the work I wasn't doing and the career that wasn't advancing and the skills I wasn't developing.
I started getting mad at any girl that had a cute haircut. I started getting upset at anyone I saw that was running by my apartment, that their bodies were allowing them to stay strong and fit. If you had a life that wasn't mine, I was mad at you. The hardest part is seeing everyone around you move forward as you stay idle. It's a lonely place.
My hot flashes are particularly bad, so recently I've given up sleeping at night. I will stay up until 3-4AM, and then sleep until noon. I started thinking, what's the point. My days aren't valuable anyways. I'm not doing anything. My time doesn't matter. I just want this to be over.
Knowing myself, it may be the exhaustion that had gotten me so down. I tend to be particularly fussy when I'm tired.
Today I went in to my work for what I thought was a disability package (or something of the sorts), and it turned out to be a massive group hug with my team and an overly generous donation they had gathered for me at our work Christmas party. I tend to get all choked up and overwhelmed when these things happen to me and I'm put on the spot, but I was bursting with pride when I saw so many of my favorite people in one place, literally busting their asses to make changes I had set so much of the ground work for before I left. It's so cool to see natural progression, people growing and learning, and for real change to happen.
While I was talking to the group, a girl I didn't recognize was tearing up beside me. I figured she was a new hire. I thought it was strange but nice that she was tearing up as I told the team that I was doing OK. She spoke up a little while later and said "I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 26. If it makes you feel better, it's been 5 years and I've had two children since then".
I couldn't even speak. In this basement, with no more then 20 people, this woman who had happened to volunteer from Belleville on the day I happened to be visiting them, had gone through exactly what I'm going through. She found me later on, and we chatted about my diagnosis and hers and we exchanged e-mail addresses and she gave me her phone number, in case I needed to text someone who might know what I was going through.
Life is crazy. Life is random. Or is it? I don't know anymore. All I know is that when I start to feel particularly low, when those negative thoughts start to overtake my mind, something like this happens to me. Someone, or something, is sent to me to remind me that I'm not alone.
I left my work knowing that it wasn't a coincidence that I had met this girl. It just can't be. Some things can't be explained, and this is one of them. It was snowing tonight and it was beautiful. I haven't considered anything beautiful all week. I was too sad. I was too angry.
I was eating lunch with a friend this week and we were talking about how some people seem to have it "so good". We talked about envy and how it ties in with anger. It reminded her of this clip above and I had such a laugh. "Just... no one in this car".
I have so many people in my life cheering me on. I am so blessed and lucky to have them all. I just needed that extra reassurance and comfort, that what I'm going through isn't foreign. I keep on learning and re-learning this as I go through this year. I'll probably have to re-learn this lesson another dozen times. Sometimes you get all consumed in your own drama that you forget that everyone else has their own thing going on. Whether it's cancer or not, that girl may have perfect hair but I can bet she doesn't have a perfect life. It probably isn't fair for me to be mad at her.
And for some reason, that makes me feel less lonely. And infinitely better. If you're going to have perfect hair you have to have something else wrong with you. (Kidding.)
So now I guess I can go back to being Sailor Sam again. Like Sailor Moon, but I'm fighting off cancer instead of evil. I need to get myself a cute cape.
xx
Sam
