Why is it we always want what we can't have. I want my life back, I want my health back, I want my parents back. And I want my chemotherapy back.
I dragged myself down to the Royal Berks last Friday, not feeling brilliant, but at least this was chemo number 5 and at last the end was definitely in sight. Shock horror - on arrival, I was sent off to have my bloods redone as they were very low. Yet more waiting around of course, only to be told that my blood counts were lower than the previous day, and I was very anaemic. And insult upon injury - for once the cannula had slid easily into my hand, and it was now going to be wasted!!!
Oh well, there was no point in getting upset, there was nothing I could do except go home.
Yesterday I set off at dawn, back to the Royal Berks for a blood transfusion. As always, I was surrounded by delightful nurses and plied with cups of coffee. The sun was shining, and I could sit by the window and admire the traffic. All the oncology nurses dropped by to say hello. Everyone kept telling me how much better I would feel after the transfusion, how much less tired . . .
Well, when it was all over I didn't quite feel like Tigger but I still managed a few little bounces.
Alarm on early again this morning ready to go for chemo. The warning bells started ringing when I went for my shower ... yet more unexplained bruises. Oh well, I thought, that's just some weak little platelets left over from before the transfusion. Now I have big healthy robust cells kindly donated by someone else . . .
Oh dear. I got to the hospital to be told that I needed yet another blood test as yesterday's showed my white cells are still not happy. So off I trotted. Yet another miracle cannula. Not that I'm superstitious of course, but it just went in too easily for the rest of the day to work out as well. And sure enough, an hour later I was called into the oncologist's room to be told that yet again I'm not up to chemo.
Logically, I know I have to wait, but I am so cross with my own body, which is letting me down by not pulling its fingers out and rebuilding its blood. It's always worked pretty well for me so far, so I can't understand why it's letting me down now. I'm so near the end of my treatment it's frustrating when the finish line keeps being moved.
What seems so crazy is that chemotherapy is horrible. It's not like having a large glass of champagne moved out of my reach ... in some ways it's a relief to put off going through the next set of side effects. But I don't care! I want my chemotherapy. Be warned - stay out of range as I shall soon be throwing all my toys out of my cot.
FormerMember
Maybe you aren't resting enough. Why not go back to bed and sleep, and drink lots of water and pamper yourself a bit. Have some chocolate, read a good book/watch a weepy film. Slob out for a day or two.
"The past is another country. They do things differently there." You know you can't go back to where you were. You have to go on, and being good to yourself is the quickest way of getting to your new life.
