I swear I did not sleep one full hour last night. It took three hours to actually fall asleep. Meditation and Zopiclone didn’t touch me. I read and finished my book, willing my body to close itself off and rest.
I hate nights like these. You watch the clock and it laughs back at you. It’s like it is in on the joke – “HA HA – you’re trying to sleep but not tonight lady…you’re staying awake and you’re going to feel totally shit all night. Have it”.
I got up at 4am and went to find the cat who was sitting on my laptop. He sees me arrive and stretches out his slim grey body and blinks in the morning view of me stood there, bloated to hell with hiccups. Bloody steroids. he leaves behind flecks of grey hair, that I blow into the air. I watch them settle on the floor as I flick the kettle on. Meds in, vitamin D spray sprayed into my cheeks, tea prepared, Actimel out – I sit at my laptop and write.
Literally 2 minutes later, I tilt my eyes to the right and watch him lick out my Actimel bottle! He can’t go in any further but my God his pink little tongue won’t give up. It’s too cute a sight to stop him – so once he’s finished, or should I have said given up, I throw that one away as he tries to once more settle himself down on the laptop. I am trying everything I can this cycle not to feel so badly bloated and uncomfortable with the steroids – hence the Actimel. I am finding that my digestive system does not work properly for about a week after chemo. This is one side effect of the treatment and the steroids, but I want to deal with this better for myself. My sister is on the case too -she has sent me a whole load of links to read to find alternative ways of managing these feelings. I look like Mr Blobby – all the water I have drank since chemo has been retained. The steroids are very good at hiding this fluid in places you never knew you had. Fingers FFS! Honestly, I am massive – I am waddling around – side to side – rubbing my gut(s) in the hope I will get rid of these burping and churning noises my carcass won’t stop making. I feel disgusting. My body looks disgusting. I am breathless and tired and dragging my baldy head around the house. A tiny head on a huge rounded blobby body of yuk.
As the day wore on, my girth got wider. My stomach has expanded some more. I kid you not. I have to go and put on elastic waisted trousers. I am so chubby. My eyelids feel chubby. I am hot, sweaty, red in the face, with swollen moon chops and if that wasn’t enough to moan about – here come the restless feet. I do not recognize myself in the mirror. My features are overfilled and puffed up. I am agitated and can feel myself getting pulled towards losing my shit with someone – anyone who gets in my way. I’m trying to zone out of the noise my husband cannot help but make as he watches football. He wants to see Manchester United kick the ball into the back of the net. I want to kick his head in. Time for bed me thinks……
I lie in bed and my thoughts are with my chemo friend who is back in hospital. I ache for her right now – this is the third time she has been hospitalized and I’m sorry she is spending her weekend in there away from her family. I really do hope she is managing OK with what her body has given her to deal with right now – so I throw her a message. I can’t say what she wants to hear but I do what I can – send her my love and virtual hugs. She’s so brave and she’ll stand back up again to beat another blow. Her chemo has been delayed and she is fed up.
It is really quite bizarre how each path through cancer and chemo is so different for all of us. I had no idea it would be like this. I thought everyone felt the same and got the same treatment for breast cancer. This medicine, and this disease effects everyone of us in different ways. Taking so much from some, and not so much from others. The menu of side effects is dished out in no particular order or with any fairness. It’s a f***ing game of Russian roulette and gets to people in a variety of cruel ways. It’s hard to remember they are usually temporary and will pass throughout each cycle. When you are trapped in the most unpleasant medical ordeal of your life, you will be forgiven for thinking you are in hell. Going through chemotherapy has brought to my world a whole new foreign language and vocabulary. I often struggle to articulate to you how I actually feel and how chemotherapy has stripped away every ounce of my self, soul, and safety. I am tired and weak and chemo has left me feeling unrecognizable to myself. My features and faculties are altered and as each day goes by, something else changes or moves into a different shape in and around me. It is a wicked and temperamental reminder that I have cancer. I fear for my sanity too. I have chemo brain and it makes me feel very very stupid. I cannot get words out and when I do they make no sense to anyone. ‘Put the dog in the dishawasher’, left my lips yesterday. Even now I do not know what I was actually trying to say. My husband tries to finishes sentences for me. Doh!
When your own body has to endure the agonies and indignities on a regular basis in order to survive – you soon come to realize what works for you and what soothes this body breaking, soul shaping journey through the minds of hell.
My thoughts are with anyone who has, and will be making the trek through chemotherapy. Remember – it is YOUR CHEMO -YOUR WAY x