The ‘ick’ hit hard. “It will start around day 3 or 4 and typically lasts for a few days, sometimes a week. Then you should have a good many days until your next round.”

Part of that was true. The ick hit as predicted and it was ick for sure. But in ended up lasting way longer than ‘a few days.’ It lasted almost until Round Two and if Round One was already a wacky, unpredictable, not-like-they-said-it-would-be cycle, this chemo crap was going to be rough. And it was. . . .

I’ll let the memories speak for themselves, though:

*Post 921

Bones :: 10/12/17 :: Post 45

The medicine that activates my bone marrow to make more white blood cells is definitely doing its job. I am in pain and these bone aches are no joke. It is so odd to feel my bones…to feel the bone marrow… I’ve noticed throughout the day that the pain travels. I’ll feel my shins throbbing and then I’ll feel my right shoulder blade ache and then I’ll feel it in the back of my neck. Occasionally I’ll feel it in my wrists or ankles. The worst pain is in my pelvis and lower back area. Oh how unpleasant it is. It’s a burning, stabby kind of ache and it’s constant somewhere in my body. I can’t settle into a nice nap because the pain wakes me up, I can’t get comfortable on my chair or in my bed because the pain gets worse when pressure is applied, I can’t feel relief when walking because it is painful to move and my body feels like it weighs 1000 pounds.

And yet I know that with every twinge of pain I feel, the medicine is working, and my body is working to repair itself amid this war.

Days 4 and 5 they said would be the worst… So far, day 3 sucked and 4 has been awful, so I anticipate day 5 to follow suit. That’s the hard part, though….what IS coming? What DO I have waiting ahead of me? Will the nausea hit when I least expect it? It’s managed right now with meds and constant snacking, but I sit and wait not knowing what is coming next.

And my skin feels dreadful…I am tingly all over. I don’t have the same sensations that I did a few days ago, my hands feel funny, my head – when I go to scratch an itch – hurts, my legs feel as if they are separate from my body, my chest, where my surgery was, feels like someone is pushing down as hard as they can on a really tender bruise…. And my eyes and my head and my brain feel so foggy still. It is bizarre how out of body I feel and yet I’m so grounded in the inescapable pain that I’m experiencing.

And I’ve been hit with waves of emotions throughout the day… The unpredictability of what is coming, the need to figure out a way to work while fighting for my life, the constant pain I am in and wondering what this new normal will be, the imminence of the side effects that haven’t hit yet… The fact that when I am in such pain and my heart is hurting so bad, I cannot just curl up and get comfy in my bed or cuddle with my husband because laying down hurts. I can’t sleep in a chair, I can’t sleep in a bed, I can’t sleep like I normally slept…I can’t curl up and sleep the pain away.

And yet I know that I must continue to function…I must get up, I must walk, I must interact with others, I must be present amid this war.

How do I do that?

How?

The pain is bearable despite being horrendous. The nausea is manageable despite being inevitable. The out-of-body-but-stuck-inside-this-body is tolerable even though it’s quite crazy-making.

So I guess for now, and for each day that comes, I am simply going to try my best to give what I have with what I have been given…

I’m Just Not There Yet :: 10/12/18 :: Post 394

I’m not at a place that I can be celebratory. I’m just not. Cancer isn’t over. This isn’t done. My harsh reality is just that.

And I have a strange feeling in my gut…but no clarity or answers to what it means. It’s a familiar feeling…. I’ve had it before. And what came of it was the hardest thing in my life

All that said, I am, however, grateful. I have amazing friends who so generously give of themselves for us and to us.

Words can’t truly measure my gratitude, so even if I’m not ready to celebrate, I certainly can be filled with thanks.

October 12 of 31 :: 10/12/19 :: Post 757

I cannot believe that my first baby is a senior in high school. What? Today was her senior softball game and it was so sweet to get to see her honored by her coach, her team and her friends. And it’s even more special to me how loved she is by so many. She makes people laugh. She is comfortable in her own skin. She is confident and wise. She is principled and honest. She is resilient and strong. And, as the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, she is a whole lot of sass.

I’m grateful that cancer brought she and I to a place of reconciliation and fierce love for each other. I’m grateful that cancer changed my heart and softened me. I’m grateful cancer did the same for her. I get home at the end of my day and no matter what she is in the middle of, she stops what she is doing and wraps me up in a big bear hug. Every.Single.Day. I hurt and she comes in and cuddles with me. I cry and she cries with me while also trying to make me laugh. She tells me what’s on her heart, she shares her opinions and convictions freely and she lives life authentically. She encourages me and never hesitates to tell me she loves me. How blessed I am.

There is no doubt that I loathe cancer and all that it has taken from me…and yet, Haleigh and I would not be where we are without it being in our story (and by extension, Catelyn and Anabelle, too). What a strange, but very real, ‘both-and’ to live in.

Breast Cancer Awareness Month…

…Day twelve – Fellow cancer fighters, we certainly share a deep bond as the road we walk can look quite similar in a lot of ways. That said, it’s not good for us to compare stories. It’s not good to judge others or ourselves for how we walk this differently than another. Be careful not to be distracted by another’s journey because yours has something for only you.