Saturday, October 12, 2019
On August 9th, I had an appointment with my oncologist (Dr. Doom and Gloom). He told me all the points they track for cancer recovery looked great. I could switch to quarterly post-chemotherapy checkups. I was thrilled. I had been doing weekly blood draws, chemotherapy treatments, doctor visits, and several hospital stays for the past eight months. I was completely over the commitment cancer required.
I felt great. I liked more foods and was eating well, my cancer marker number was down, and my scans looked great. I shouted to everyone I was cancer free and could take control of my life again. In October I got a death sentence. What happened in two months?
August 27th was an ordinary day. I do not remember what I did, and I felt fine all day long… until about 9:00 p.m. I was lying in bed and started feeling queasy. I threw up about 10:00 p.m. and was relieved it looked like normal puke instead of the weird-looking stuff that had hospitalized me twice recently with bowel obstructions. No such luck. Many hours (and pukings) later I was in the emergency room and they were once again putting a tube down my nose and testing for a bowel obstruction.
On August 30th I had surgery to remove scar tissue that was wrapped around my bowels and the surgeon saw more cancer. Fridays are a surgery day for Dr. Doom and Gloom, so my surgeon called Dr. Doom and Gloom into my surgery so he could see what was going on first-hand.
The next day, the surgeon told me there was still a lot of cancer in my body and the cancer was tiny, inoperable flecks all over. I choose to envision a picture of the stars across the night sky and all the stars are my small flecks of cancer. I have decided it is easier to deal with my cancer when I do not consider it to be the ugly, nasty invader it is.
When I was getting ready to start chemotherapy back in December, a friend who had gone through cancer treatment told me not to fight it. I was shocked. Everyone says they are going to fight their cancer; why would she tell me not to? I understood her message once I had my first chemotherapy treatment.
Not everything about cancer is horrible. Do not get me wrong, it is 99 percent horrible. I hated going back and forth to the hospital so much. I felt miserable. The complications tried to kill me. All my hair fell out, even my eyebrows and eyelashes.
My actual chemotherapy treatments were not bad. I was on a very powerful chemotherapy drug, so I got the big dose of Benadryl to keep me from reacting badly to the drug. I liked the stupid-head, heavy-body feeling I would get for two hours (I am now planning to never take over-the-counter Benadryl for allergies because I may become addicted.). That powerful chemotherapy drug made me warm. For three hours I was not shivering. The chemotherapy never made me nauseous.
I am choosing to find the happy parts all along my cancer journey and focus on them rather than the inconveniences cancer causes. The chemotherapy drug I start next month may make me sick. I will probably only get the small Benadryl dose. It will be hard to see the happy parts if I am puking my guts up. I will not need to stay all day at the hospital like I did on my old treatment with my new chemotherapy and that is a start.
My piece of advice to you is to find the happy. This is not my first death sentence. My first death sentence was 23 years ago, and I am still rolling around. I am paying better attention this time and actively looking for and celebrating the good parts.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
On August 9th, I had an appointment with my oncologist (Dr. Doom and Gloom). He told me all the points they track for cancer recovery looked great. I could switch to quarterly post-chemotherapy checkups. I was thrilled. I had been doing weekly blood draws, chemotherapy treatments, doctor visits, and several hospital stays for the past eight months. I was completely over the commitment cancer required.
I felt great. I liked more foods and was eating well, my cancer marker number was down, and my scans looked great. I shouted to everyone I was cancer free and could take control of my life again. In October I got a death sentence. What happened in two months?
August 27th was an ordinary day. I do not remember what I did, and I felt fine all day long… until about 9:00 p.m. I was lying in bed and started feeling queasy. I threw up about 10:00 p.m. and was relieved it looked like normal puke instead of the weird-looking stuff that had hospitalized me twice recently with bowel obstructions. No such luck. Many hours (and pukings) later I was in the emergency room and they were once again putting a tube down my nose and testing for a bowel obstruction.
On August 30th I had surgery to remove scar tissue that was wrapped around my bowels and the surgeon saw more cancer. Fridays are a surgery day for Dr. Doom and Gloom, so my surgeon called Dr. Doom and Gloom into my surgery so he could see what was going on first-hand.
The next day, the surgeon told me there was still a lot of cancer in my body and the cancer was tiny, inoperable flecks all over. I choose to envision a picture of the stars across the night sky and all the stars are my small flecks of cancer. I have decided it is easier to deal with my cancer when I do not consider it to be the ugly, nasty invader it is.
When I was getting ready to start chemotherapy back in December, a friend who had gone through cancer treatment told me not to fight it. I was shocked. Everyone says they are going to fight their cancer; why would she tell me not to? I understood her message once I had my first chemotherapy treatment.
Not everything about cancer is horrible. Do not get me wrong, it is 99 percent horrible. I hated going back and forth to the hospital so much. I felt miserable. The complications tried to kill me. All my hair fell out, even my eyebrows and eyelashes.
My actual chemotherapy treatments were not bad. I was on a very powerful chemotherapy drug, so I got the big dose of Benadryl to keep me from reacting badly to the drug. I liked the stupid-head, heavy-body feeling I would get for two hours (I am now planning to never take over-the-counter Benadryl for allergies because I may become addicted.). That powerful chemotherapy drug made me warm. For three hours I was not shivering. The chemotherapy never made me nauseous.
I am choosing to find the happy parts all along my cancer journey and focus on them rather than the inconveniences cancer causes. The chemotherapy drug I start next month may make me sick. I will probably only get the small Benadryl dose. It will be hard to see the happy parts if I am puking my guts up. I will not need to stay all day at the hospital like I did on my old treatment with my new chemotherapy and that is a start.
My piece of advice to you is to find the happy. This is not my first death sentence. My first death sentence was 23 years ago, and I am still rolling around. I am paying better attention this time and actively looking for and celebrating the good parts.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.