I’ve made myself look human today. I realise I’ve now reached a point in my treatment where I now look unwell as well as feel unwell. Makeup is essential to avoid frightening people!
Having managed to do the cold cap, I do still have hair. But it looks bad. About a third of its normal thickness, dull and lifeless. I wear it in a french plait most of the time as that somehow gives the illusion of more hair and covers the thinner patches. Sometimes I think about packing in the cold cap but then I think about pruning an old rose….don’t cut it all down in one go, leave some old branches so that you will still have flowers each season until the new growth establishes itself. My theory is regrowth will look better with some of my old hair.
I still have eyelashes and eyebrows but I might as well not have them as the hair is thin and pale and you can’t really see it. But at least it is something to work with so I’m grateful.
My eyes are always puffy, no matter how much sleep I get and my skin is pallid with the remnants of a big blotchy patch on my cheek from the shingles I kept getting during the first chemo drugs.
You know, to be honest, right now I am struggling. I’ve tried very hard to remain positive through all of this and I’ve been really good in terms of my grand plan and daily goals.
I’m now 46% fluent in Spanish according to Duolingo, I’ve started painting a portrait of my son, I’ve done loads of work in my garden, I go to yoga weekly and have been waking up at 7am every day. I’ve managed to curb my gradual weight gain by using an app called MyFitnessPal and have been exercising fairly regularly. So I should be feeling better about things, right? Wrong.
I feel like I’m at a fork in the road. And this is where I realise that getting through chemotherapy is whole lot about how strong your mind is. Everyone worries about the side effects but you don’t realise those side effects are also on the way you think. This feels like “The Wall” that marathon runners talk about. Does everyone get to this point?
Yes, I have physical side effects at the moment…mouth ulcers that make it very painful to eat and drink, flu-like symptoms (thank you Paclitaxel) and tiredness likely related to anaemia…but those pale in comparison to the mental dialogue that is going on:
“What’s the point of going through all this? Is there anything positive at the end of it? No: you are menopausal before your time, not only will you be missing a lovely feminine body part but it will probably be replaced by a massive disfiguring keloid scar, your bones may have lost density and you may have heart issues…you are effectively an old lady before the age of 40. Treatment is going against nature’s course! That’s why other things keep going wrong - you are upsetting the balance by trying to save yourself.”
Sounds harsh but that’s the chatter I am dealing with. Jeez, reading it back it is unbelievably negative. And yes, I know, it is missing the statement, “But I will be cancer free”, which then turns into “Well, for now anyway”. But even guilt tripping about how grateful I should be does not shut it up.
It’s been triggered by some upsetting news. News that affects my purpose for being here. My personal life is taking a bit more of a dive and I’m finding it very, very difficult to deal with. To the point where I’m losing my light at the end of the tunnel. I feel a bit unnecessary.
What stage am I at on the Kugler-Ross Model? I was looking this up the other evening…Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. It must be Depression although I don’t remember going through Anger.
As ever, Acceptance seems an unachievable state. Accepting the unfairness of what is happening without a reason seems inconceivable.
Why is this happening?
What is the point?
Those are my two questions.
I’ve just got back from round 3 of weekly chemo (second lot of drugs treatment). I am one of those people who believes that people come into your life for a reason. There is something to learn from everyone. My colleague, who has become a dear friend, might have just saved me without having the slightest idea that she did.
While sitting with me at chemo discussing recent events, she mentioned the word “stability” to me. It’s something that hadn’t featured on my ‘purpose for being’ thoughts. I’m going to think about it a bit more.
Something my son can recite when asked what mummy always says is: “No matter what, mummy loves me”…I may not be a bundle of laughs at the moment, I may not do cool things like ride horses or go swimming…but I am always here whenever I am needed. I can do that.
I knew writing things down would help me in some way. These are the things I am going to do:
Good luck with The Wall everyone. I think I have taken my first step up and found a very small crevice for a hand grip….
