Emotional

I wasn't truly prepared for my second round of chemo.  I knew the process but the mental aspect was tougher this time around.  I had an appointment to see my Oncologist before my treatment so on the drive to the Center I was trying to remember how I was feeling the past three weeks.  I really need to keep to a journal of each day...how tired I am, if I can eat, and so forth.  My appointment seemed to go well and my blood counts were good.  I headed downstairs to the infusion center.

The center manager, Jan, (who is super awesome) was going to put me in the same cubical I was last time.  I groaned.  My poor Mom had to sit in a very uncomfortable chair for 7 hours last time, while the nurse climbed over her to get to me. The area I was in was loud and busy and I really wanted to be able to sleep, if possible.

Jan checked the private room and it was available.  I was giddy.  My Mom would be able to sit in a recliner while I could get some peace and quiet (my favorite thing).  My excitement soon turned to sadness.  It was quiet.  I was able to think.  I began to get nervous.  The nurse came in to "hook me up" while we waited for the Doctor to send the orders to the pharmacy.  Kristi (my nurse for the day) pressed on my port and the pain was terrible.  Why does it still hurt?  I did put the numbing cream on over an hour ago.  Kristi was shocked I could still feel it.  I flushed and felt like crying.  She said I shouldn't have any pain at all and if it continues we will talk to the surgeon who inserted the port. Now my nerves were really high.  Have I not healed from the surgery?  Is my body "rejecting" the port?  Was I just another patient, so it was rush job?

We hadn't really started yet and I needed to get out of there.  The only place to go is the bathroom.  I took lots of bathroom breaks.

When I returned, Pam was sitting in the room waiting for me.  Pam is a massage therapist who comes into the Center each Tuesday to help with relaxation and healing.  She was told to start with me (the basket case) and I was ever grateful.

In my private room I was able to turn off the lights and rest. Which gave me more time to think.  I talked to God while I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.  My Mom read her book and fielded questions from nurses.  I knew this would wear me out and wasn't looking forward to days of feeling full and bloated and laying on the couch.  Days of weakness in my legs that make them shake.  The swollen tongue and no taste buds.  Yawning and exhaustion.  I just wasn't ready.  I was feeling so good before I went in.  I was walking daily, eating, shopping with my daughter for homecoming. I was normal.

When I got home, I do believe a bit of depression set in.  I didn't want to leave the couch.  I cried often.  I lost myself in books.  I didn't even put on real clothes.  I checked in on the preschool through their facebook page and I felt so sad.  The kids were precious and happy and I wasn't there.  Days went by this way.  Finally Sunday and I could leave the house.  I wanted to go to Church, but I was still apprehensive.  I didn't want anyone to know how weak (in spirit) I was feeling.  I found my spot and didn't really speak to anyone.  I couldn't make it through worship standing so I sat and cried through most of it.  After service, I turned around to see a line of friends waiting to talk to me.  Each one held me tight and I cried harder.  Each one told me how they prayed for me daily and that I was stronger than I thought.  I'm so glad I pushed myself to go that morning.  It truly changed my thinking and my physical self.  I had more energy the following day and felt pretty good.

It's the Power of Love.                                          go ahead and sing it- Huey Lewis and the News  ;)

I lost it!

After my first Chemo treatment, I literally sat around waiting for side effects.  The list was long and I figured I needed to see what my body did so I would know what to expect the next time around.  I didn't get sick.  My taste buds changed a bit, but eventually went back to normal.  I was waiting for my hair to fall out.  I had talked to people who said they didn't lose their hair, or it was possible I wouldn't.

 I do believe that I had guilt of not having an outward sign that, yes I was sick. I stayed in my house during the school day for fear someone would see me and wonder why I wasn't teaching, I looked just fine. Then it happened...

I woke up 2 weeks after my first treatment to hair on my pillow.  In the sink.  In the shower.  It was going fast.  My hair would drop out of my head and land on my shoulder, it felt like spiders were crawling all over me.

  I had a really hard time "styling" my hair.  I was getting a bit patchy, I actually had a comb over at one point.  It was an emergency to get head coverings. I enjoyed looking for hats and scarves.  I used to wear hats all the time.  Within three days it was time to shave.

I brought the clippers downstairs and asked my husband to do the honors.  I really wanted him to be a part of the process and he was happy to oblige. We went out to the garage and he had a good time making designs on my head.

It was fun, not sorrowful.  It's hair.  My hair does not define me.  My daughter said it was if I was shedding the old me so I can begin anew. Such wise words from an 18 year old. 

Learning Lessons

We are being challenged everyday all of the time.  Often when the challenge isn't easily overcome we question why.  Why is this happening?  Why me?  After I found out my diagnosis of course I questioned, I wondered, I cried.

When I began my "detour" it was about a month before school started.  I had planned my year and was ready for my new batch of kids.
My Doctor told me, I would not have the energy or immune system to withstand a preschool
classroom.  10 years of developing the school and curriculum and I was told to take time off.  What am I going to do with myself?  I teach, play, sing and take care of kids, that's what I do!
Little did I know, my husband had already spoken with a teacher that may be interested in taking over as a long term substitute.  How dare he!  What is he thinking!  He's giving away my job!

I have always been a stubborn strong women.  I take care of things on my own and ask for very little help.  If I think I can do it, I will.  I take on challenges.  I take care of others.  I show little fear and hardly take time for myself.  If I hurt, I just keep going so no one feels sorry for me.  I keep a busy schedule.   Then......Cancer.

I am trying to be still.  To listen and look for my lessons in this.  God has a plan.  I apologized to my husband for "giving away my job".  He was making things easier for me. He was taking care of everything behind the scenes so I would not have to worry, but focus on my health.  I met with the wonderful lady he spoke too and it was as if God had led her to me and the school. She had just moved to the area and was in need of a job while I had one I could give.  Mrs. B and I talked and we discovered we have the same philosophy when it comes to children. Within 2 days she was hired to be my long term substitute.  Mrs. B is doing a great job with the kids and keeping me updated regularly.

I always feel guilty to have someone "wait" on me or do things for me.  The generosity I have gotten this past month has left me in tears on many occasions.  I was told by a friend, as I cried on her shoulder, "This is what the Body of Christ is all about.  We are here for you."  I have received cards and messages from people I don't see on a regular basis.  Some telling me their story of Cancer and how it has touched their family or even themselves.  I am part of a great church family who is providing meals and support to my family regularly.  I am loved.

I'm learning what is important in my day.  My Husband, Kids and Family are top!  If I am feeling well I am visiting.  I am answering the phone (I truly dislike talking on the phone) and returning calls. I am not concerned with what my house looks like.  I am taking time to listen to my body.  I am praising.  I am loving.

We'll see what lessons I will learn in the next year.  Keeping my eyes, ears and heart open.