It happened that quick. Netflix one second – fast sprint to the bathroom the next.
11/06/20 ~ 21:31 ~ “I officially declare the side effects open”
NOW HERE FOLLOWS A HEALTH WARNING TO ALL OF YOU READING THIS
BEFORE YOU CARRY ON READING THIS YOU PROMISE ME YOU WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THESE ARE MY EXPERIENCES – YOURS WILL BE DIFFERENT
YOUR CANCER AND YOUR TREATMENT ARE DIFFERENT
You may not go through any of this so do not get dragged in to thinking your chemotherapy side effects are going to be like mine……..but please do share yours with me if you think it might help you.
And there followed about 5 hours of nausea, fever, pains, shakes, dizziness, tingling and short spiky headaches. If any of you have ever done a mindfulness body scan meditation – it reminded me of that. But on steroids. You’re scanning your body and sending all sorts of messages and thinking to each part that is reacting to the toxins. From ‘f*** off’ to ‘please don’t be sick, please’, to ‘why me’?, to the more wholesome ‘I’m healthy’, ‘I’m strong’, and ‘I can do this – I can cope with this tonight’.
It’s tiring, it’s scary and it messes with your mind. If you like a mental challenge then you are in the right place.
Next I knew it was 03:30am – I am lying on my back, breathing exercises pumping away. I sip water. Grab my sick bowl – it passes. You go from ‘Whoahhhh’, to ‘Noooo’. I wasn’t sick, and each time I go through this loop with an empty sick bowl I throw gratitude in the air like confetti. Yet no one is with me at this gathering. I am flying solo.
My anti-sickness meds are working surely. But I know I am only hours in. Anything can happen but I work hard at relaxing in to the calmer moments and doze on and off.
More meds with toast at 06.30am. As each tablet makes its way in, I imagine the chemo targeting my tumor. Has it destroyed any cells already?
It’s quite a funny old game to be playing – chemo space invaders!
I wake up to flowers being delivered from one of my teaching groups. Tears respond to their kindness. Wow. I was not expecting those.
The day passes well. I keep to ‘safe foods’ and I drink plenty of water. I get into my tablet timetable and watch Spongebob and Skins with my children. My husband works full time from home, so puts his head into see me fleetingly. I worry about him and what plates he is spinning and what support he has. I’m pleased he has some normality and I hope he’s coping as well as he appears.
The messages, phone calls and texts keep pouring in. I’m running out of ways to say ‘I’m so thankful for to you for thinking of me today. Your love is keeping me going.
It’s been OK today. Cheese on toast for dinner, then Netflix, then more meds. I offer up a silent prayer to anyone who is listening (I am not at all religious), but maybe think my Granddad might have a watchful eye over me just now.
“Thank you for making today manageable. I’m so grateful my sick bucket has remained empty”