First, I
wanted to apologize for not posting too often over the last month or so.
I went into a pretty deep depression, and had to fight my way back to
being, well, me. Emotionally, I was exhausted. I was just
completely done with all of this. I had some pretty negative thoughts
going through my head, and my physical condition just exacerbated them.
With the help of some travel (to get away from a world where cancer is
center-stage), some talks with amazing friends and family, and some therapy at
CTCA, I've been able to work through things and get back to being me.
In my opinion, being diagnosed with cancer is one of the most immediately life-altering things that can happen to you, especially if you are younger. Don't get me wrong - there are others. But this is one of the ones I have experience with (damn it). It takes a long, long time for your brain to accept and process what you're going through. My emotions run all over the place, and without any rhyme or reason. The thought of facing your own mortality is terrifying. There is no guidebook or rules around how to deal with something like this. Imagining your children growing up without you - it will strike a fear in your heart that words can't possibly describe. While you know that you are mortal, you assume (and rightfully so) that this will happen at some distant point in the future. After all, when you're in your 20s and 30s and 40s, you're too busy building your life to start planning for the end of it. If you're hit with a cancer diagnosis (or something horrific like it), you are often completely unprepared to deal with the emotional baggage that goes with it.
In spite of your desire to shield your family and friends from the "bad stuff," you need to talk with people. These need to be people you can trust, and be brutally honest with. You may be surprised who you are comfortable talking with - that's ok. Something like this can fundamentally change your relationships, and may bring you closer to someone you never expected to lean on. I've found (both times) that the people you try to protect from your emotions and feelings are often the ones that want to hear what you are feeling, thinking. They want to help, but don't know how. Sometimes, just talking with someone helps. It has for me. And, for Levi.
We have friends that have been invaluable in this way. I won't call them by name here (we'll call them Sally and Joe), but they have been instrumental in helping me/us get through this battle. Joe lost his first wife to cancer years ago, and has been able to talk with Levi about fears, hopes, etc. It's been an absolutely essential piece to Levi's coping with what we're going through. Has he accepted it? Nope. But, he has someone he can talk with that understands, and can speak from experience. And Sally? Well, she's given me the strength and the trust to be able to open up to her about things like my wishes for my body after I'm gone (whether that's in a year or 50 years from now). She's allowed me to talk through things and has given me perspective on others.
Through it all, we've been able to choose to NOT talk about that huge blue elephant in the room (of course it wouldn't be white...), and to just laugh about the dumbest things, if that's what we need. They have become an essential part of our recovery and treatment, and I couldn't be more grateful for their presence in our lives. Their children have given our kids comfort and freedom to be themselves, and I know that I consider their kids my children by another mother. It's been an amazing experience to be able to go through this with them, and I know that we will never, ever be able to express our heart-felt and soul-deep gratitude.
And, along with Sally and Joe, we have an amazing support system of family and friends, nearby and far away, that have been essential to us making it through the past 4 months. (Has it only been 4 months???) I would be remiss if I didn't mention how much everything everyone has done for us has helped, in ways I can't begin to tell you. It's the overt assistance, like the donations and the dinners. It's the anonymous help, like care packages that come in the mail unannounced and without a note. It's the occasional email/fb posting/text message just saying hi....those are priceless, and make me feel like, although the world has gone on without me, they haven't forgotten about me.
Ok - based on the title of this post, I got apology and gratitude out of the way. Onto pre-chemo jitters. *sigh* Do I really have to talk about this one? :)
The day before chemo always sucks. There is so much on my mind that I have a pre-chemo checklist that I work through to try to make sure things are settled. It's basic stuff, like making sure laundry is (mostly) done, that the house is clean-ish, and that there is food in the fridge for the family and for me (meaning, chips and dip and watermelon for me...). It's the medicines that I need to make sure I start the day prior, like my charcoal tabs to prevent/help with diahrrea, and my Zofran to help with nausea. Emotionally, I start to get anxious about the port (will it work, will they get blood return, etc.), and the impending physical changes...the nausea, the exhaustion, the icki-ness.
But, it has been three weeks since my last chemo. I've been on two of my three trips this summer, and the end is (hopefully) in sight. Dad and I are going to ask about future plans, like when is the CT scan scheduled for, and how many more rounds we have, and what the short-term and long-term future holds. It's going to be a scary talk, but one I'm excited to have because I think it's going to help answer some of the questions I have in my head. I'm hopeful that I make it through this round fairly easily (I've got some meds I forgot to take last time that are already on my bathroom counter), and get to next week with optimism and excitement about my trip next week. Yes, I'm travelling again. Last time this summer. Off to Nashville this week! Can't wait to see Amie, and to explore country music's capital! Who knows - maybe I'll run into Rodney, and get the chance to thank him personally. Hey - a girl can dream, right???
Off to get the kids up, dressed, and then I'm heading to the gym. It's been helping me so much....emotionally, physically. Helps clear my mind, and helps me feel like I'm giving my body another tool to fight. So important to keep active....for me, it's just walking on the treadmill. For now, it will do. I can run later!
In my opinion, being diagnosed with cancer is one of the most immediately life-altering things that can happen to you, especially if you are younger. Don't get me wrong - there are others. But this is one of the ones I have experience with (damn it). It takes a long, long time for your brain to accept and process what you're going through. My emotions run all over the place, and without any rhyme or reason. The thought of facing your own mortality is terrifying. There is no guidebook or rules around how to deal with something like this. Imagining your children growing up without you - it will strike a fear in your heart that words can't possibly describe. While you know that you are mortal, you assume (and rightfully so) that this will happen at some distant point in the future. After all, when you're in your 20s and 30s and 40s, you're too busy building your life to start planning for the end of it. If you're hit with a cancer diagnosis (or something horrific like it), you are often completely unprepared to deal with the emotional baggage that goes with it.
In spite of your desire to shield your family and friends from the "bad stuff," you need to talk with people. These need to be people you can trust, and be brutally honest with. You may be surprised who you are comfortable talking with - that's ok. Something like this can fundamentally change your relationships, and may bring you closer to someone you never expected to lean on. I've found (both times) that the people you try to protect from your emotions and feelings are often the ones that want to hear what you are feeling, thinking. They want to help, but don't know how. Sometimes, just talking with someone helps. It has for me. And, for Levi.
We have friends that have been invaluable in this way. I won't call them by name here (we'll call them Sally and Joe), but they have been instrumental in helping me/us get through this battle. Joe lost his first wife to cancer years ago, and has been able to talk with Levi about fears, hopes, etc. It's been an absolutely essential piece to Levi's coping with what we're going through. Has he accepted it? Nope. But, he has someone he can talk with that understands, and can speak from experience. And Sally? Well, she's given me the strength and the trust to be able to open up to her about things like my wishes for my body after I'm gone (whether that's in a year or 50 years from now). She's allowed me to talk through things and has given me perspective on others.
Through it all, we've been able to choose to NOT talk about that huge blue elephant in the room (of course it wouldn't be white...), and to just laugh about the dumbest things, if that's what we need. They have become an essential part of our recovery and treatment, and I couldn't be more grateful for their presence in our lives. Their children have given our kids comfort and freedom to be themselves, and I know that I consider their kids my children by another mother. It's been an amazing experience to be able to go through this with them, and I know that we will never, ever be able to express our heart-felt and soul-deep gratitude.
And, along with Sally and Joe, we have an amazing support system of family and friends, nearby and far away, that have been essential to us making it through the past 4 months. (Has it only been 4 months???) I would be remiss if I didn't mention how much everything everyone has done for us has helped, in ways I can't begin to tell you. It's the overt assistance, like the donations and the dinners. It's the anonymous help, like care packages that come in the mail unannounced and without a note. It's the occasional email/fb posting/text message just saying hi....those are priceless, and make me feel like, although the world has gone on without me, they haven't forgotten about me.
Ok - based on the title of this post, I got apology and gratitude out of the way. Onto pre-chemo jitters. *sigh* Do I really have to talk about this one? :)
The day before chemo always sucks. There is so much on my mind that I have a pre-chemo checklist that I work through to try to make sure things are settled. It's basic stuff, like making sure laundry is (mostly) done, that the house is clean-ish, and that there is food in the fridge for the family and for me (meaning, chips and dip and watermelon for me...). It's the medicines that I need to make sure I start the day prior, like my charcoal tabs to prevent/help with diahrrea, and my Zofran to help with nausea. Emotionally, I start to get anxious about the port (will it work, will they get blood return, etc.), and the impending physical changes...the nausea, the exhaustion, the icki-ness.
But, it has been three weeks since my last chemo. I've been on two of my three trips this summer, and the end is (hopefully) in sight. Dad and I are going to ask about future plans, like when is the CT scan scheduled for, and how many more rounds we have, and what the short-term and long-term future holds. It's going to be a scary talk, but one I'm excited to have because I think it's going to help answer some of the questions I have in my head. I'm hopeful that I make it through this round fairly easily (I've got some meds I forgot to take last time that are already on my bathroom counter), and get to next week with optimism and excitement about my trip next week. Yes, I'm travelling again. Last time this summer. Off to Nashville this week! Can't wait to see Amie, and to explore country music's capital! Who knows - maybe I'll run into Rodney, and get the chance to thank him personally. Hey - a girl can dream, right???
Off to get the kids up, dressed, and then I'm heading to the gym. It's been helping me so much....emotionally, physically. Helps clear my mind, and helps me feel like I'm giving my body another tool to fight. So important to keep active....for me, it's just walking on the treadmill. For now, it will do. I can run later!
Comments:
Ana said...
I
have so much respect and admiration for you! Seeing all you are going through
and still being able to talk about it the way you do it. Thank you for letting
us being part of it.
I would love to meet you in person and become your friend.
I would love to meet you in person and become your friend.
July
25, 2012 at 7:27 PM
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