The Way I Feel
I think this saying above is meant to apply to what we are all going through with the coronavirus, but it is also how I am feeling about cancer right now, too. In the height of the coronavirus crisis, I am now thinking more about cancer this week than I am thinking of the pandemic, and I am not sure what to feel or how I should be feeling. I had my first palliative care appt. on Friday via phone, and while it was a very good appt., it left me a little unnerved afterward. It was really difficult for me to have talked so matter-of-factly about my impending death, and it was hard to verbalize my hopes and fears regarding this cancer. And it was hard thinking about the statistics again. If I go by statistics, I will die in about 10 months. Just in the beginning of the new year. I am sure counting on and praying for and hoping for a miracle, and I know that everyone’s cancer is different, but if I am going with the statistics, 10 more months just isn’t that long. It’s the end of my calendar. And the months are moving so quickly.
I was finally putting Christmas decorations away that I had just put in the basement for months and getting out Easter decorations, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should get rid of things so that I wouldn’t leave Tom with so much to go through, and I wouldn’t be needing those decorations anymore anyway. The decorations hold so many memories, my memories, and it was hard to think that Christmas might be the last time I put them out, that this summer might be my last summer, etc. They are my things, my life, and it was hard to think about saying goodbye to them. I talked to Tom about how I was feeling yesterday morning, and I asked him what to do with all the decorations under the stairs. He said to keep them, that he wanted them and that he was thinking the same things as me lately, that 10 months is not a lot of time left. The tears were flowing in our kitchen. It helped to talk to him; I think we’re both pretty good at being strong for each other. I am feeling better about things now, but I was in a funk this past weekend. I wasn’t feeling good from Chemo on Friday and Saturday, again, but I feel back to normal today, both mentally and physically.
My pallaitive care doctor gave me good advice about helping with my fatigue, and he said the best thing possible for me: You have to give permission to yourself to be tired. And you have to have others give you permission to be tired. I feel so good, with minimal, bearable side effects, that I feel like I need to keep up with everyone, myself included. I need to give myself permission to rest and slow down because my body is going through a lot. I just want to be normal and keep normal; one of my fears is not being able to do everything I want to do. I know that day is coming, and I get anxious thinking about it and not knowing when that will come. I feel pretty normal now, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible. It’s my way of fighting. But I do need to give myself permission to rest when I need to and when I just have one of those days. I always feel strong on the days I have Chemo. I am getting refueled. And I feel strong when I am fighting through the symptoms, but maybe I need to change my thinking to realize that resting when I need to is refueling, as well.
I set my tests up today. I will have my next CT scan on May 5th, and I will have a bone scan on May 21st. I will meet with my doctor to go over results on May 28th. I like having these dates set up. They keep me motivated as I like to focus on the plan — what’s next, what’s next, what’s next. What do I have to do to fight this thing? I will do it. I will do everything in my power to keep this cancer small and shrinking or remaining stable while knowing that, ultimately, I am not the one in control.
Will write again on Thursday from Chemo.
Stay healthy, everyone!