Back in Chemo

*This posting was written on May 4^th, 2010 but not posted until Tuesday May 11

 

Tomorrow I start chemo. I still can’t believe I’m writing these words. Am I in denial? Sometimes I wonder if I am, but then I realize I DO know what’s going on and what will be happening to me. Have I accepted it? I suppose I must have accepted it so far because I seem to be in a decent place mentally. Will it change me? I guess that’s what I worry about the most. Going through cancer the first time totally ripped my life into shreds that scattered down like millions of snowflakes. It seemed like my life had been stolen from me overnight.  Nothing from that point on would ever be the same. Our life would never go back to the way it was before. How I wished and hoped it could, but it’s just not possible when you go through a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer. I can’t speak to how it feels going through an earlier stage cancer and if things ever do get back to the way they were before. I hope that it does for some, but I’m realistic to think that it would be rare for it to work out that way.

So many times in the early years of my diagnosis my husband and I wanted so badly for our life to go back to the way it was before. We just wanted our lives to be “the same as they were before”. All the wishing in the world can’t pull that miracle out of the magician’s hat. My social worker (and others) said we had to get used to our “new normal”. I started to hate that phrase but once it actually happened, my attitude changed.  There are many stages to going through a cancer fight both physically and mentally. First there’s shock, confusion and fear. Then there’s anger. Extreme sadness often falls in there somewhere along the way. And then at some point you realize that your life is as normal as it’s going to get and you’re ok with it. You understand that it will never, ever be the way it used to be…but that the way it is now isn’t all that bad. After all – you ARE alive!

For almost ten years I stumbled over the rocks, attempted to jump the hurdles, and then at some point found the smooth road and open water and I embraced my life the way it had turned out after all I’d been through. Some days I questioned my sanity. I had incurable, widespread cancer that was under control.  It could, however, start to progress (spread) again at any time and my life would be threatened. Why then did it seem that I was like a little 4 year old skipping through a field of daisies with my head in the clouds thinking life was just grand?! With the threat of cancer hanging over my head continually I was somehow able to live and to thrive.

I would be thrown into a tailspin of despair every once in awhile, especially after the death of a breast cancer friend. It was at those times I realized just how scary this is, but how lucky I was. It could have very easily been me that lost my life. Why her and not me? Why, why, why, why, why????!

I’ve known for the last almost ten years that my cancer will most likely start to progress again at some point and I’ll be thrown back into turmoil, fighting for my life. I’ve also come to terms (I think) with what will most likely take my life or will definitely threaten it along the way. It’s the disease I’ve lived with since the summer of 2000 – breast cancer. Even though I’ve known the cancer would likely start to grow again, it doesn’t make it any easier when the actual time comes.

The time has come. My cancer is progressing and my life is being threatened once more. Recent tests revealed the cancer is back in my liver and in some other areas of my abdomen. I can’t repeat the word I said in the oncologist’s office when I heard the news. I promised I wouldn’t use that word in this blog. I’m starting to wonder if I should have made that promise and how long it will be before I break it while I’m writing here J

Tomorrow is the day I start chemo again. I start fighting for my life again, and I’m wondering if my life will stay as it is now or if we’ll have to adjust to another “new normal”?! I sure as hell hope not. I’ve gotten used to the way my life is now and I don’t want many changes. Gee, that’s not a lot to ask when you have metastatic breast cancer is it? It IS a lot to ask but I’m hoping with all my heart that it’s possible…not only for my sanity but for the sanity of my husband, our families and friends.

I haven’t cried much since I got the news that I was going back into chemo. I cried in the office the day I got the news from the oncologist and the rest of my medical team as we all huddled together in a small treatment room. I cried when I called to make an appointment to get my hair cut short. I knew it was all going to fall out within 10-14 days of the first chemo and making that appointment for a short haircut was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. But it wasn’t as hard as telling some of my family and friends. Telling my best friend since childhood was THE hardest thing to do and of course we both got teary on the phone. Then I got teary the next day when flowers showed up on my door from her with a lovely note.

I’ve been fairly good emotionally while telling people - so far. At first we kept the news very quiet and only informed a few family members and friends. I just was not ready for it to become public knowledge. I wasn’t able to wrap this news around my own head, let alone try and make someone else understand. And I wasn’t ready for the “sad puppy-dog looks and sappy voice tones” of those who would write emails or call. I also was not ready for the “rah rah” messages either.

To tell you the truth, I feel dead inside. I wish I knew why I was feeling this way. There don’t seem to be any emotions lurking near the surface and I’m wondering why. For God’s sake woman!!! You’re going to have chemotherapy, and you’re going to lose your hair in GOBS. I keep wondering if I’m going to feel sick and shitty. I worry that I may pack on the pounds from the steroids. And, I worry more that I’ll end up eating like a horse, which is what happened last time. Seems kind of weird that I’m worried about all this when what I should be worried about is whether the chemo will work and if I’ll survive.

Tomorrow will bring what may be one of the hardest days of my life but I’m going to make every attempt to get through it with humor. If I need to cry, I will. During the next four months of treatment  I’m going to spend the majority of my time at home and in my garden. I won’t be hanging around big groups or large parties because I want to avoid getting sick and ending up at the hospital. I just might be the world’s most secretive hermit this summer. The plan at this point is to stay home, stay healthy, and to take things one day and one moment at a time.

Baby steps is all I can do right now so that’s what I’ll stick with, and I’ll hope my sanity stays with me. Maybe that dead feeling inside will melt away, maybe the worry will disappear, and hopefully I’ll once again feel thankful to be alive and celebrate every day.