Halfway there…
Next week is halfway. It’s chemo #6. I’m readying myself as the side effects creep in. The taste lasted longer this week. The fatigue was a day later this time but still made its way around my body. It’s the strangest thing, but when I’m on the infusion pump or when I’m sitting at the medical center hooked up, I can feel the chemo. The drugs and all the toxicity coursing through me. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not even really uncomfortable, but I can just hear and feel my body telling me that there’s something happening. It’s a mild mannered threat. Ironically, it’s a feeling caused by these chemotherapy drugs and not the cancer itself.
Thankfully the nausea has kept itself out of my most prevalent side effects. Out of everything, that would make me the most miserable in my day-to-day life. I have the cold neuropathy, but can do my best to avoid cold objects and surfaces. I have the fatigue, but I can organize my routine and plan my days around it because it’s predictable now. Out of everything, the vomiting and the migraines keeping themselves in the shadows are what is allowing me my “good days.”
Both of my brothers visited Leah and I this past week in between the chemo appointments, and it was great timing. I was feeling up for some baseball and it was a lot of fun just going to the games and catching up during the evenings at home. Not having flare ups of the side effects makes it better to enjoy the time we had. We stayed up late chatting about anything and everything. It was a great few days.
This is prep week again, and the time when I try to get chores and errands done so that the little things doesn’t sneak up on us during a chemo week. I’m ready for the second half of this. The chemo and these side effects are building up in my body, but so is my determination. I see Leah and I know how much she’s also fighting with me. I see the look on her face when she’s “reading” me. When I cough. When I still take a weird half-breath because they cut through all my abdominal muscles. When I wince because something is sore. Her beautiful eyes lock on to me and won’t let go until she’s certain that I’m okay… at least for the moment.
Even through the aches and pains, even though it’s somehow only been 3 months since the ER, my will to live is stronger than ever. I have Leah by my side, my dogs to snuggle me, and the support from all of you near and far. I have plenty left to do and see, so I’m bound and determined to survive this. You don’t need to gain a cancer diagnosis to gain a new perspective. And you don’t need to be told that you’re dying in order to start living.
