Thursday is my last treatment of a drug abbreviated AC. No one cares what it stands for so I won't go into it. After that I will start on Taxol. 12 treatments of that and I should be done with chemo sometime in the new year.
A lot of people ask me how I feel. I'm not sure how they want me to answer that question. Do they want me to say "okay" so they can move on with their lives or do they really want to know? Because the truth is that I feel terrible. I feel like I'll never be myself again. I feel like I will never be done being sick. Every day that I am creeping closer to another treatment and still taking nausea medication is a healthy day that is pulled out from underneath me. This cycle I was never able to go off of the medication. I have to go to my next treatment without having any "good" days.
I got two separate G.I. infections that my body should have been able to fend off. One from food, one from who knows where. But my body can't fend them off. Because I don't have enough white blood cells. I feel weak and tired.
But I think the worst part of the chemo is the busyness. I am still working full time. I am still a mom. I am still a primary president. Every moment that I can move is filled with constant activity and I feel a need to streamline everything that I do, trimming anything that isn't absolutely necessary because my time and energy are cut in half. This is why you aren't supposed to get breast cancer at 36. There simply isn't enough time for it.
Chris is doing so much to take all he can off my plate. He is doing laundry and dishes, driving to activities and helping with science fair projects. I am more grateful for him than I can articulate.
My counselors have been my angels, taking over when I am sick and helping to shoulder the load of the primary program.
People also ask me what they can do. Honestly, I need to be allowed to disappear when I feel terrible and I need slack when I don't. I need to not have anything unnecessary added to my list of things to do. I need you to treat me like I'm normal and talk to me like we talked before I got sick. In my mind I am still a youngish mom with long brown hair, a wicked sense of humor, and a fit body. Please don't point out to me that I'm not those things anymore. Don't dwell on the fact that I'm wearing a scarf. Don't try to fix me. I can't wear a wig, and frankly, I don't want to. I can't eat my favorite foods and I may not even be able to eat what I could yesterday. I am going to be sick for awhile. That's just the way it is. I need friends who will accept me for who I am and not constantly trying to make me better. Because I won't be, not for awhile at least. I am grateful for the people that love me. For my friends and family, and especially for Chris, who wholeheartedly accepts me, sickness and all.
I am hoping that when I switch drugs that things will be better and chances are that they will be. But for now I am smack dab in the middle of suck.
I won't share any pictures of myself yet. Because they don't match who I am. Instead, I'll share an image of the thing that comes closest to chemo. You know when Dumbledore and Harry are in the cave looking for the locket horcrux? Well, Dumbledore has to drink the poison in the basin so they can get the locket at the bottom. Harry keeps feeding it to him, even though it appears to be killing him. That's what chemo is like. I hate it.
