My mountain is large, but it is absolutely covered in fields of wildflowers.
People tell me that when all of my treatment is over I can look back on this past year and chalk it up to just a terrible year but you know what? It hasn't been. I was diagnosed in October of 2018 and I do not think it ruined my year. 2018 was one of the best years of my life and 2019 isn't looking too bad either.
This mountain I'm climbing hurts my back, my legs are tired, and I can't see the top from where I'm standing but I'm still here, and I'm still climbing. The beauty of it mingles with the pain and I can appreciate the worthiness of the struggle. It reflects back to me the common thread seen throughout my life; I am more than one thing.
It becomes easy to be consumed by the label of cancer. Days pass where it is all you talk about with your spouse, all you think about when you aren't talking about it, the core location for where all of you money, time, and energy is focused. If you are very lucky, time will pass and you will find yourself passing a day where cancer neither entered your mind nor your conversation. The mountain will never go away. It will shift and change as your life shifts and changes but I hope it is always covered in fields of wildflowers.
Surgery next week. I hope the drugs are good.
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Monday, April 8, 2019
Chemo Brain
Chemo brain is slowly watching your cognition decrease and thinking there are things you can do to stop it. Chemo brain is the character Charlie from Flowers for Algernon.
Chemo brain is 30lbs of potatoes in the house because you keep forgetting you already bought some.
Chemo brain is losing the ability to put together an outfit and going to work dressed like a preschooler who insisted on picking out her own clothes.
Chemo brain is celebrating, and I mean hardcore celebrating, when you remember to follow through on something.
Chemo brain is starting this blog and then forgetting you've done it...
On March 20 I went for my regularly scheduled weekly Taxol. When I went back a week later for my next dose the doctor decided to hold off a week to give my side effects a chance to settle down. A week after that it was decided that we would quit altogether. I finished chemo without even realizing it. It's f*cking terrifying.
Chemo brain is 30lbs of potatoes in the house because you keep forgetting you already bought some.
Chemo brain is losing the ability to put together an outfit and going to work dressed like a preschooler who insisted on picking out her own clothes.
Chemo brain is celebrating, and I mean hardcore celebrating, when you remember to follow through on something.
Chemo brain is starting this blog and then forgetting you've done it...
On March 20 I went for my regularly scheduled weekly Taxol. When I went back a week later for my next dose the doctor decided to hold off a week to give my side effects a chance to settle down. A week after that it was decided that we would quit altogether. I finished chemo without even realizing it. It's f*cking terrifying.
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