After the last treatment, I am leery of how my mood may dip. I had had two treatments without a significant dive into the abyss, so the last time took me by surprise. I knew what was happening, but it did not stop it from happening, nor did it help me deal with it.
It is an awful place. It is like a dark, heavy, wet blanket. It is a place of not necessarily being able to sleep, and not necessarily being able to do anything else. And even if there was a capability to do something, there is a feeling of incredible lethargy, and lack of caring. Nothing matters, and nothing feels like it matters. As a matter of fact, death seems the most "likely" place to go. And, even worse, perhaps, it is even hard to care about being "there."
Many think this dark mood is a "place" that is a choice, and can be controlled. I suspect that someone who has ever truly been "there" would likely not be of that opinion.
Even as I knew what was happening, and why, I felt helpless to stop it. The feeling was so familiar. I have learned to "allow" the darkness, in the same way that one "allows" themselves to enter a tunnel on a trip. It is part of the path that takes you where you need to go.
I wish I could say that saying what I say and knowing what I know logically helps, but I am not sure that I can - at least not when I am in the midst of it.
As I share this, it occurs to me that there might be those who will be tempted to downplay, or in some way minimize, the reality of what happens, given its nature. "Oh, there she goes again."
The last chemo treatments I wrote about "behind closed doors." The immediacy of my pain wasn't readily apparent publicly. The first time (the first 6 months) I went through treatment, I wasn't as aware of things as I am now. It was all new to me, and when I did share things there were times I was bombarded by well meaning, but extraordinarily unhelpful, advice.
Being a "veteran" in this experience of cancer is helpful in some ways. Supposedly one becomes an expert at something after dealing with it 10,000 hours. Day 417 of dealing with this I became an expert. Ironically, Day 417 was Independence Day, 2013.
Yup. I just had to figure it out.
Independence Day. Ain't THAT something? Not sure what I think that means at the moment. But I will definitely be thinking about that "coincidence."
As of this moment, I have been dealing with cancer 1012 days or