I promised I'd be honest. You're not going to like it, though. I want you to be clear about it all. I'm not a hero; this isn't a 3-day walk in a park. God reminded me of my humanity this week. Turns out, I'm incredibly human.
This was big chemo week: both the Cytoxan and the Abraxane. I had a reaction like I've never had before, however. The first intractable symptom was a growing fever, waking up Saturday morning, 1.5 days after chemo. I reached 99.9 but I didn't top the 100.4 that would send me automatically to the ER.
I felt incredible, deep bone pain: I had to text hubby downstairs to come help me. As you remember, that symptom means my white blood counts are far too low. I got those somewhat resolved with Tylenol and Claritin, but the nose sores and the taste of metal/blood were ever-present -- much, much worse than ever. I couldn't make them go away. My GI felt like it no longer worked, like a subway that has stopped and is backing up dangerously. It felt like my system was turning into metal itself.
After days of this, thoughts turned pretty dark, and any solution seemed, well, reasonable. It became easy for me to ideate that the solution was to just be done. It would solve so much: the pain would stop. My family would have the money that is currently being poured into my veins to hold the cancer away. (My life insurance is pretty good, you know.) If I die now, maybe that would spare me a horrible drama later. I know, that's not a good place to be. So I just prayed to find relief.
My husband was wonderful. He kept my hydrated, medicated and comforted the best he could. I obviously did hang in there of course; if this was going to be my death, that day wasn't going to be Superbowl Sunday, apparently. Gradually, that day, it resolved. I was even able to watch and enjoy the Superbowl. So, prayer answered. Yesterday, the sun shone, and I napped. It was over, more or less. Thank you, God?
I don't know how my fellow travelers do this; how some of them handle much worse. I bless and marvel at them; I know I never want to experience this again. I still have one more big chemo, and it's likely to be worse yet. I'm going to have to steel my warrior aspect for it. I told my husband to force me through the doors, if he has to.
By the way, before my fellow Christians give me the "God doesn't ask you to suffer more than you can handle" speech, please read this. Never, ever say that. It's a terrible thing to say. I'll make another post of things you should never say to a cancer survivor.
Let me know your coping techniques here in the comments, or on Twitter, Facebook or Inspire.com.
This was big chemo week: both the Cytoxan and the Abraxane. I had a reaction like I've never had before, however. The first intractable symptom was a growing fever, waking up Saturday morning, 1.5 days after chemo. I reached 99.9 but I didn't top the 100.4 that would send me automatically to the ER.
I felt incredible, deep bone pain: I had to text hubby downstairs to come help me. As you remember, that symptom means my white blood counts are far too low. I got those somewhat resolved with Tylenol and Claritin, but the nose sores and the taste of metal/blood were ever-present -- much, much worse than ever. I couldn't make them go away. My GI felt like it no longer worked, like a subway that has stopped and is backing up dangerously. It felt like my system was turning into metal itself.
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| My Chemo Crash! |
After days of this, thoughts turned pretty dark, and any solution seemed, well, reasonable. It became easy for me to ideate that the solution was to just be done. It would solve so much: the pain would stop. My family would have the money that is currently being poured into my veins to hold the cancer away. (My life insurance is pretty good, you know.) If I die now, maybe that would spare me a horrible drama later. I know, that's not a good place to be. So I just prayed to find relief.
My husband was wonderful. He kept my hydrated, medicated and comforted the best he could. I obviously did hang in there of course; if this was going to be my death, that day wasn't going to be Superbowl Sunday, apparently. Gradually, that day, it resolved. I was even able to watch and enjoy the Superbowl. So, prayer answered. Yesterday, the sun shone, and I napped. It was over, more or less. Thank you, God?
I don't know how my fellow travelers do this; how some of them handle much worse. I bless and marvel at them; I know I never want to experience this again. I still have one more big chemo, and it's likely to be worse yet. I'm going to have to steel my warrior aspect for it. I told my husband to force me through the doors, if he has to.
By the way, before my fellow Christians give me the "God doesn't ask you to suffer more than you can handle" speech, please read this. Never, ever say that. It's a terrible thing to say. I'll make another post of things you should never say to a cancer survivor.
Let me know your coping techniques here in the comments, or on Twitter, Facebook or Inspire.com.
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