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Here it is. Here I am. All those days ago when I was told what this experience would be like, it was so intangible... And now I'm here feeling it. Shaved head, in the bathroom, standing over the sink while I rinse out my fluoride trays and brace myself for the ringing in my ears and nausea to subside. This is what going through radiation and chemo therapy feels like.
Ugh. And I'm only at week one.
There is a graceful way to accomplish anything. I don't feel people need to always take that route, and I doubt I would recommend to myself to be aware of grace right now. There is an image I hold in my head when I have previously thought of someone going through treatment of cancer. An angelic, peaceful presence to those faced with such a fate. My Mom and Jackie (Hunter)'s best friend, Val was the epitome of grace when she went through her journey with cancer. It always stuck with me. I went to her eternal place of rest to spend time with her and talk about how beautiful I thought she was for a few years after she passed.
Being in this position makes me feel everything. I only now thought of what I look like in the mirror. But I can't bear to face that version of myself just yet. I have breezed right by my reflection in fear I won't recognize my physical self. Truthfully, the thought terrifies me to the core.
I haven't cried for days. I haven't even had a good cry since before this treatment began. I have been in survival mode- silently afraid that once I allowed myself to feel sad, I wouldn't leave that place. Damn it. I'm here, and I am sure I will leave, but there is such a despair to my situation that I feel entirely valid in staying.
The sores in my mouth are starting to burn. There are so many reasons for my mouth to be in pain right now that it doesn't matter anymore. All of the side effects are managed by a fine concoction of treatment plans that cause more side effects, and so on. I have had no appetite but I must consume all the calories and protein I can muster so my immune system doesn't shut down entirely and render me on a feeding tube through my stomach, in the hospital, really ill, etc. I swish with rinse, take my anti-nauseants, brave the hot flashes, wash my skin several times a day, brush my teeth, use prescription rinses, and other intense methods to sterilize my mouth... Every little decision I make has apparent grave consequences. I can see how very easy it will be to give up when I am in more pain, feel more ill and am several weeks into this treatment. My 'treatment plan'... The plan to save my life: Months of agony.
Today, I realized how numb this experience was leaving me. I was the sole provider of care for my daughter for the first time in a week today. The experience made me mourn the half step of development I am convinced Bu made. She is growing so damn fast and I really must stay connected to her right now. It breaks my heart not to have the energy to be the Mom I wish I could be right now.
I guess I need to release this negativity. I need to put it out there to everyone that this transformation isn't ideal, I'm not pleased to be going through it... But I still have a semblance of trust in it. Truthfully, my choice was made when I found out that my Stage IV B cancer literally could not be closer to Stage IV C cancer without putting a shelf life of 9 months to my life. I have somehow found myself at the end of the rope, and this is me grasping for more.
I don't have to recognize myself right now, but I know how thrilled I will feel the a day where I feel at home in my own skin again.
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