I Tried to Play Nice...

I am laying in bed, feeling not so great. Chemo started again. This is the third time I am standing here.

A little over a week ago I was devastated. My doctor had given me 3 choices of chemos to choose from, one of which, going in, I thought would be my choice.

The chemo I wanted I had been told worked well with Vitamin C. I had been told it was easier on my body, and that I was less likely to lose my hair. 

I had been on it before; so I had a bit of an idea what to expect. But that was the problem in the oncologist's eyes. In his mind it already kinda proved it wasn't really gonna work as well as we'd want.

I wasn't sold on his belief, but found myself in tears. Did I dare try a different chemo? I have hated what chemo has done to me; many times feeling so removed from myself. Sad to look in the mirror, and see shades of my forner self.

It is hard. I do not care how enlightened I may seem to be, or strong, or whatever, it is damn hard. At least before I had the thought that afterward all would be Ok again. I would get through chemo, be done, and hair would come back. 

Well. My story did not quite go that way. 

Hair takes longer to grow back than you may think, and after doing chemo last summer in anticipation of a surgery that did not happen, my hair got wrecked, and has not fully recovered. And now, I pray for a miracle of keeping what I have. A miracle that has eluded me twice before. 

I have been told to focus on "inner beauty" as I face this possibility. I "get" all that. But that is so easy for someone else to say.

When I was a kid I often had short hair. It was only the last several years before being diagnosed I had long hair, and I was loving it. I was imagining myself being a long-haired lady long after it was considered "fashionable."

I was devastated when it started to fall. But I got through it. I even came to appreciate the shorter hair at some point. At least it was hair.

And losing head hair is one thing. Losing eyebrows makes it worse. I felt like I looked like a Klingon without any make-up to replace where my natural brows were.

It makes it impossible to just leave the house, and I have no desire to even open the door to anyone. I just can't put a cap over my face.

The last few days I have been thinking about my relationship with cancer and chemo. I have "played nice" these last couple of years.

I have looked at chemo as an ally and a friend. I have never looked at it as a battle or a war. I have never tried to resist the things that were happening. Tried to roll with them, accept them, deal with them, even though I can't say I appreciated or liked them.

I have "danced" with cancer. 

But I am tired. I can't keep doing this. I don't want to keep doing this. I also don't want to give up, nor do I want to die. 

I have thought about how we have relationships in which we "play nice" for a time, but then there comes a moment that a butt needs to be kicked. Sometimes it is time to end that relationship. Playing nice may be the best/right thing to do for a time, but when it is time to butt-kick you know it.

I have not been one for cancer battle or struggle metaphors. This change of perspective feels like a cousin to where I now am - a place that I feel that cancer needs its butt kicked. I have decided that this needs to be my last time on chemo. Chemo needs to kick cancer's butt to the curb.

I am also trying to tell cancer it should leave any way. If it keeps going, it is going to destroy its home any way, and it won't have a place to survive.

It needs to go, and it needs to go now.

PS I REALLY need help financially to make it through this. I realize just giving money can be challenging. However, if you've enjoyed or appreciated my writing (Relatetocancer.com/SometimesitSuckstoBeHuman.com) or art (cedonaah.com) or videos (gotstressgetrelief.com), you can be a patron for as little as $1 per month - which you can cancel at any time. Please consider Patreon.com/jolope. Thank you - I appreciate your help more than you will probably ever realize - or I could express).