It's been five weeks since my last -- my very last -- chemotherapy treatment. Hurray! I'm feeling pretty joyous these days because my tastebuds are coming back and I can eat things that I only wished I could eat when I was in treatment. I haven't noticed any hair coming back, but my energy level is getting better; however, that is a slower process than I would like. And it's a little frustrating because I want to feel energetic and do more of the things I want to do ... like take all the Christmas decor down, or clean the spare bedroom out ... but I have discovered that the energy I do have still isn't what I'd consider "normal" ... I don't have the stamina that I'd like to have at this point. I'm still limited in how much I can do on any given day.
I've been told by the doctors and nurses, and I've read, that the fatigue -- the inertia and lethargy -- that comes as a result of the treatments for breast cancer can last for anywhere from 6 to 9 months after the treatments are over. I wanted to think that in my case that would not be true, but I'm having to come to terms with the fact that I am not superwoman.
That said, I am feeling hopeful and positive and appreciating every small stride I'm making in my recovery. It's a journey, and, as they say, every journey begins with one step. So here's to taking small steps to getting back to "normal" ... whatever that is!
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Resolutions
Every year I make lame resolutions on January 1st and by the end of the first week of January I've pretty much already abandoned them. This year is going to be different because I'm going to make a resolution that won't be hard to keep. I'm going to be happy to be alive!
I'm going to be thankful for every moment and take joy in the simple things. I think this resolution will be easy to keep because it isn't unrealistic. I'm not saying I won't have bad days where I feel sorry for myself or have times when I get mad in traffic or get impatient while waiting in line at the grocery store. What I'm saying is that when those things happen, I'm going to remind myself that I've been fighting cancer for the last eight months and have come out on the other side of chemotherapy treatments. I'm going to remind myself that there are worse things than being stuck in traffic or a long, slow moving line. If I'm feeling sad or tired or defeated at any given moment, I'll remind myself that at least I have the opportunity to feel that way.
Yes, this year I am feeling pretty confident that I'll be successful at keeping my resolution. And I feel like the luckiest girl in the world because I'm able to make that resolution and work on it all year!
I'm going to be thankful for every moment and take joy in the simple things. I think this resolution will be easy to keep because it isn't unrealistic. I'm not saying I won't have bad days where I feel sorry for myself or have times when I get mad in traffic or get impatient while waiting in line at the grocery store. What I'm saying is that when those things happen, I'm going to remind myself that I've been fighting cancer for the last eight months and have come out on the other side of chemotherapy treatments. I'm going to remind myself that there are worse things than being stuck in traffic or a long, slow moving line. If I'm feeling sad or tired or defeated at any given moment, I'll remind myself that at least I have the opportunity to feel that way.
Yes, this year I am feeling pretty confident that I'll be successful at keeping my resolution. And I feel like the luckiest girl in the world because I'm able to make that resolution and work on it all year!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas!
I feel so blessed, so lucky, so merry!
My doctor said that a lot of people who receive a diagnosis of cancer will look at the holidays and get somewhat maudlin (my word, not hers) about them. She said they start thinking maybe they should do things differently than during past holidays. That they start thinking that maybe this will be their last holiday.
No way I'm going there.
I plan to have a lot more holidays.
Will I do things differently from now on? Yes. Definitely. In fact, I'm thinking that every single day I wake up and my feet hit the floor, that's a day worth celebrating, so that means from now on every day is a holiday as far as I'm concerned.
Not to sound all sappy and maudlin, but cancer does make you take a step back and start looking at your life and what's important and what is not. I think I've said that before. It's worth saying again.
Every day we have breath in our body is a gift.
Merry Christmas everyone! And many many more!
My doctor said that a lot of people who receive a diagnosis of cancer will look at the holidays and get somewhat maudlin (my word, not hers) about them. She said they start thinking maybe they should do things differently than during past holidays. That they start thinking that maybe this will be their last holiday.
No way I'm going there.
I plan to have a lot more holidays.
Will I do things differently from now on? Yes. Definitely. In fact, I'm thinking that every single day I wake up and my feet hit the floor, that's a day worth celebrating, so that means from now on every day is a holiday as far as I'm concerned.
Not to sound all sappy and maudlin, but cancer does make you take a step back and start looking at your life and what's important and what is not. I think I've said that before. It's worth saying again.
Every day we have breath in our body is a gift.
Merry Christmas everyone! And many many more!
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Memory loss
A while back I mentioned having chemo brain and said I'd talk more about that later. Now is that time.
Chemo brain is pretty interesting. And scary. Before I started chemo, the nurses and doctors told me I'd experience it. One doctor said it should really be called crisis brain because it's a phenomenon that you can experience even without being shot up with cancer treatment; it's a phenomenon that happens when you have a lot going on and a lot on your mind. It's where you can't find the right word for an everyday object like your keys, or the name of the medicine you're taking. Or when you can't recall that you did something ... like when you're in the grocery store and you forgot your list and can't recall if you already bought and have milk in the fridge. Or when you cannot focus on reading a chapter in a book. Or when someone asks you to do something or tells you a story and two days later you cannot recall that conversation.
All those things and more are what happens when you have chemo brain. It's kind of funny. But it's also really kind of frightening. And worrisome. And frustrating. Really frustrating. And the more frustrated you become, the worse the chemo brain becomes.
It's hard to explain all the side effects of chemo, and if you haven't the experience of chemo brain, you might not be able to imagine it. And, I don't want anyone who's reading this to know it firsthand, but if you ever find yourself looking for a word for an everyday object or wondering if you have milk in the fridge when you're in the market, you've gotten a glimpse of what it's like.
I'm sure that eventually the chemo brain will wear off, though something tells me I'll still forget words and what's in the fridge ... but in the future when that occurs, I'll chalk it up to having a lot on my mind!
Chemo brain is pretty interesting. And scary. Before I started chemo, the nurses and doctors told me I'd experience it. One doctor said it should really be called crisis brain because it's a phenomenon that you can experience even without being shot up with cancer treatment; it's a phenomenon that happens when you have a lot going on and a lot on your mind. It's where you can't find the right word for an everyday object like your keys, or the name of the medicine you're taking. Or when you can't recall that you did something ... like when you're in the grocery store and you forgot your list and can't recall if you already bought and have milk in the fridge. Or when you cannot focus on reading a chapter in a book. Or when someone asks you to do something or tells you a story and two days later you cannot recall that conversation.
All those things and more are what happens when you have chemo brain. It's kind of funny. But it's also really kind of frightening. And worrisome. And frustrating. Really frustrating. And the more frustrated you become, the worse the chemo brain becomes.
It's hard to explain all the side effects of chemo, and if you haven't the experience of chemo brain, you might not be able to imagine it. And, I don't want anyone who's reading this to know it firsthand, but if you ever find yourself looking for a word for an everyday object or wondering if you have milk in the fridge when you're in the market, you've gotten a glimpse of what it's like.
I'm sure that eventually the chemo brain will wear off, though something tells me I'll still forget words and what's in the fridge ... but in the future when that occurs, I'll chalk it up to having a lot on my mind!
Thursday, December 6, 2007
The pain of loss, the joy of recovery
It's been a little over six months since I began my journey, dealing with breast cancer. The diagnosis in May, the surgery in June, the chemo starting in August. I lost my summer. I lost my breasts. I lost my hair. I lost the last several months. I lost my ability to focus. I lost being in control of everything in my life. I had to learn how to get through each day. The chemo side effects made it so I had to get up and discover how I was feeling and thus how I would negotiate that day. I had to live literally one day at a time. The chemo side effects are subsiding now, but yet I am waking up each day to evidence that I've had chemo ... I still have no hair, food still tastes bland or weird or bad, and I find that fatigue is still a constant, a natural part of each day.
That said, I find each day I awake to be a blessing and an opportunity to see just how much better I feel than the day before. I'm still discovering things I cannot do, but now I have gratitude for the things I can do and hope for those that I will be able to do soon. Recovery is a good thing!
That said, I find each day I awake to be a blessing and an opportunity to see just how much better I feel than the day before. I'm still discovering things I cannot do, but now I have gratitude for the things I can do and hope for those that I will be able to do soon. Recovery is a good thing!
Monday, December 3, 2007
A season of hope
Up until just the other day, I really haven't been looking ahead. I've been focused on today, the here and now, the immediate. To some degree, this has been a learning experience, and definitely a new way of thinking for me. Don't get me wrong ... I've always been a person who lives for today, that's why I don't have a million bucks in the bank and why I have more memories than bankroll. But this big C thing ... well it makes you stop in your tracks and take stock in what matters. And the chemo, that makes you ... forces you ... to live right now. I wake up feeling great and two hours later I feel like a steamroller has had it's way with me. So it goes.
But.
This next chemo treatment tomorrow is my last one. And for the first time since May, I feel like I can look ahead. Look forward to something. Like, I'm looking forward to getting hair ... I can't say "getting my hair" back, because I'm told that whatever hair that grows back will be different than what I used to have. That will be interesting for me and for my hairdresser!
I'm looking forward to eating ... really eating ... again. Especially a nice juicy steak and a big fat cheeseburger (not at the same time! I need to pace myself people!). I'm looking forward to spaghetti with marinara sauce. To wine. To a lovely green salad. To tomatoes in the summer.
While I've been undergoing these treatments, I've tried to maintain my sense of humor, so I have been able to laugh during this time and I thank God for that gift. I do look forward to more laughter than tears over the next several months and I look forward to sharing laughter and conversation over those tasty meals soon with all my friends!
Mostly, I look forward to getting my life back.
But.
This next chemo treatment tomorrow is my last one. And for the first time since May, I feel like I can look ahead. Look forward to something. Like, I'm looking forward to getting hair ... I can't say "getting my hair" back, because I'm told that whatever hair that grows back will be different than what I used to have. That will be interesting for me and for my hairdresser!
I'm looking forward to eating ... really eating ... again. Especially a nice juicy steak and a big fat cheeseburger (not at the same time! I need to pace myself people!). I'm looking forward to spaghetti with marinara sauce. To wine. To a lovely green salad. To tomatoes in the summer.
While I've been undergoing these treatments, I've tried to maintain my sense of humor, so I have been able to laugh during this time and I thank God for that gift. I do look forward to more laughter than tears over the next several months and I look forward to sharing laughter and conversation over those tasty meals soon with all my friends!
Mostly, I look forward to getting my life back.
Monday, November 26, 2007
What's normal anyway?
A week from tomorrow I will have my last chemo treatment. I can't say I'm looking forward to the treatment, but I am looking forward to it being my last.
The past several months have taught me some lessons about what's important in life and what isn't. Cat hair all over the house and not having the energy to vacuum it up, well, it's not such a big deal. Eventually it'll get vacuumed! Being able to work from home and to keep my job and pay my bills and even indulge my Target habit during this time, that's what they call priceless.
What's been hardest for me is giving in to the fatigue and flat out inertia that the chemo brings on. I've found out the hard way more than once what it means to push myself too far beyond my limit.
Like this weekend when Friday and Saturday I was feeling close to "normal" ... that is, I felt I had the energy to clean off the front porch, to put away into the garage the multiple flower pots and gardening implements staggered around the back yard and the back porch, to put up some Christmas decorations, to shop at the grocery store. And then on Sunday I was down for the count. Not a drop of energy left ... all I could do was lay in bed until I was able to move downstairs to lay on the couch. That's my new "normal" as my doctor would say.
I probably wouldn't have had such a Sunday slump if I had been less of a stubborn girl who has to do what she wants to do right when she wants to do it! But that's me when I'm not sick, so why would I be any different when I am? That is, why would I let cancer change me that much?
That said, my doctor has said that it will be 6 to 9 months after I finish my chemo treatments before the side effects of the chemo are completely a part of my past life, so, based on that, I think I better learn to pace myself. So, okay, I guess I've learned that I should not push myself too hard on any given Saturday. I've learned that just because I think that I can do that "one more thing" I probably should not do it before resting a while.
My biggest problem here though is that I am fighting cancer, and I'm determined that I will not let it beat me. I mean, I've still got a lot to do in this life!
And really, after all that's said and done, that's my new normal.
The past several months have taught me some lessons about what's important in life and what isn't. Cat hair all over the house and not having the energy to vacuum it up, well, it's not such a big deal. Eventually it'll get vacuumed! Being able to work from home and to keep my job and pay my bills and even indulge my Target habit during this time, that's what they call priceless.
What's been hardest for me is giving in to the fatigue and flat out inertia that the chemo brings on. I've found out the hard way more than once what it means to push myself too far beyond my limit.
Like this weekend when Friday and Saturday I was feeling close to "normal" ... that is, I felt I had the energy to clean off the front porch, to put away into the garage the multiple flower pots and gardening implements staggered around the back yard and the back porch, to put up some Christmas decorations, to shop at the grocery store. And then on Sunday I was down for the count. Not a drop of energy left ... all I could do was lay in bed until I was able to move downstairs to lay on the couch. That's my new "normal" as my doctor would say.
I probably wouldn't have had such a Sunday slump if I had been less of a stubborn girl who has to do what she wants to do right when she wants to do it! But that's me when I'm not sick, so why would I be any different when I am? That is, why would I let cancer change me that much?
That said, my doctor has said that it will be 6 to 9 months after I finish my chemo treatments before the side effects of the chemo are completely a part of my past life, so, based on that, I think I better learn to pace myself. So, okay, I guess I've learned that I should not push myself too hard on any given Saturday. I've learned that just because I think that I can do that "one more thing" I probably should not do it before resting a while.
My biggest problem here though is that I am fighting cancer, and I'm determined that I will not let it beat me. I mean, I've still got a lot to do in this life!
And really, after all that's said and done, that's my new normal.
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