7 of 8

Well, who knew that the chemo floor was open on the weekend?
Not me.
But on Thursday they were still scrambling, trying to find me a time to do chemo on Friday. Then they called and said my appointment was on Saturday.
Well, okay.

And now I have gone to the appointment and I am home.
Today I am feeling pretty okay and in pretty good spirits.
Elaine points out that this has a lot to do with all the drugs they have pumped into me and that it gets a bit different.
That’s a bit of a bummer, eh?

Today’s treatment was kind of interesting for me.
I won’t mention the part about opening my eyes as the woman sitting directly opposite me almost barfed.
I think it was homophobia.
heh..
Okay, I don’t think that.
I think it was really unfortunate timing on my part and really an unfortunate situation for her.
Luckily her treatment was over really quickly. I only came close to seeing her barf one more time.

Anyway, today felt different.
For one thing, I was one of the very few bald people doing a treatment today.
There were maybe two other bald people, and everyone else was new enough that they still had their hair or they were coming back for follow-up treatments and their hair had grown back.
So, that part was different.

And I think it’s just kind of different because it’s a weekend and so it feels less busy around there.
A bit less crazed.

But I also think on one level, I am sort of mentally packing my bags and getting ready to say adios to my pals on the chemo floor.
And I have to be careful with that.
It can be really hard for me to just stay in the moment and not rush ahead. I find myself making a lot of future plans in my head, way more than I did before I got sick. I hope I follow through on quite a few of them when I get better.

It’s that fine line between optimism/determination and denial.

When I started the treatments and I would be feeling really confident about making it through everything, I would wonder about that and whether that was just some elaborate denial thing.
If it is, I seem to be able to inspire it in others, because quite a few people have said they are confident I am going to make it through all this. I agree and appreciate the feedback.
And anyone with a dissenting opinion could keep that opinion to themselves, okay?
Anyway, over the last few months I have struggled with ‘what *is* the difference between optimism and denial?’
I don’t think I am in denial because I get so goddamn cranky about all my aches and pains and pokes and jabs and general inconveniences.
I don’t think I am dealing with a little thing.
I think I am in the middle of the most important battle I will experience in my life and it’s a dogfight.
But I plan on winning. And I have a great team of people helping me get there. With Elaine in the coxswain position.
I have had a lot of love and support along the way in this weird ride and I feel really lucky.

And, even with that, I was sitting there at chemo today and there was a woman sitting across from me. She had a bit of a dykey feel to her, and so did the woman who was there giving her morbid support, so I may have paid a bit more attention to them than I normally do.
Anyway, the woman who was the patient seemed to be getting her first chemo treatment; she was one of the hirsute ones there today. Her partner/support system was asking all kinds of questions about her meds and that was smart.
And then the woman who was the patient started having a bit of a rough time.
You could tell she was feeling dreadful by looking at her. Her face became blotchy and flushed and her shoulders were slumped down a bit and it looked like no fun at all.
And I looked at her and I remembered my first treatment and how I crashed and it made me realize, in some ways, how far I have come since then.
I don’t think you can do this much chemo and not become a bit of a natural with the whole system they have down. And, all things considered, I kept my contact level with the BCCA at a minimum. There are lots of supportive things they want to do for me, and mostly I just come home and get my support from my own people.
But still, I remembered how freaked out I was the first time and how sick I got, first in the chemo room and then when I got home. And how I spent an entire week on the couch and thought that was how I would be spending my life for the next 6 months and being pretty sad about that.
And then we changed some of the meds and added a bunch and it’s different now. It’s no party by a long shot, but it is so much better than the first time.
But when I saw that woman feeling like crap and being afraid and being at the beginning of the process, I also caught a glimpse of this wild ride I have been on and how long it’s been like this.

As a f’erinstance, my normal oncologist is at a conference right now, so I had last week’s appointment with a different oncologist. And it’s really interesting to see the different approaches and the different things people see as important.
Anyway, last week’s doctor, Dr. Pike, says that it is common for people to have an emotional crash after they finish up their chemo.
She said after months of being in the system and doing all the stuff you do, all of a sudden it ends and you have time to think about everything you have been through and you crash. And you can crash extra hard because you have been waiting and hoping and living for the day when you can stop chemo, and it arrives and then so does all that baggage.
So, I need to be careful to watch out for that.
For sure I have been dealing with this like I was walking a tightrope and I know that if I look down, I may stumble. So, I just keep looking straight ahead.

Anyway, it’s late and it’s time for me to take some more chemo day medication. I don’t have enough to share with the whole class, so I better log off and go do that alone.

More as it happens.