Today feels heavy. But I don’t! 1.5 pounds off!! YAY!! I knew something wasn’t right, so I will once again, encourage you to listen to your gut feelings, your hunches, your body sounds and silences, and ask for help. Reach out and talk to your health professionals and those around you you trust. Push, phone, ask and plead – don’t let anyone tell you different. Stand up and be confident…
BE HEARD
Today is busy. I make sure everything is in place for tomorrow. We are in lockdown, so when I am getting pumped tomorrow my husband will go essential food shopping. The list is prepared and I do it in aisle order so it makes it easier for him. The ironing basket is empty (thank you daughter), bedding changed, cat food cupboard full to bulging, washing done, emails sent, last minute tasks ticked off the to do list, kids all ready to go, husband briefed, friends messaged. This pre-chemo routine is normal for me now. Except tonight it feels different. I feel I am surrounded in care and compassion. My phone lights up every few minutes from well-wishers. This helps me so much. These messages have been constant and strong from the start and really give me the lift I need when I wither. The thoughts and belief from others is a powerful medicine and one you need when you are going through chemo. They stimulate your self belief, pushing you on when the darkest of moments cloud your vision. They want to all know how I am feeling. Right now. Like this…..
Anxious – scared – nervous – hopeful – optimistic – negative – fearful – worried – excited
A whole bunch of ambiguous feelings. My mind and body do not truly know which to feel. It’s a very difficult feeling to fully comprehend. Like I am being lifted in my mind by warm air, but at the other end of my body, my feet are being dragged deep into the earth. Such a paradox.
My chemo journey started on 10/06/20 – it ends
tomorrow 04/11/20.
I need to mark this and set a new date in my calender. A chemo ‘dead-day’. It’s not a birth-day is it? Tomorrow it ends. I get some closure.
I am pissed off because I look ahead and see much more of my journey till to come. This has been the hardest medical assault I have ever experienced. Yes it ends, but not with total certainty that the cancer has been killed off and I will live a full life. I have no assurances. The operation – the results from that – the next treatment plan. The radiotherapy. It will never ever end. Never.
How I wish for tomorrow to be the end of it all. The flag in the ground. The full stop. The last page. Hell no. Cancer isn’t that easy or straight forward. It’s slippery and sneaky and always looks for the last word.
I am in a maze of madness and you can never find the way out. It feels like that now. One ending will come tomorrow. What I deeply desire and so desperately want – is not going to be available to me yet.
