On the Downhill Slide

Nine weeks of the second chemo down. Three to go. Then there are six weeks of radiation. It seems like a lot, but I'm more than halfway down this journey.

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They give me liquid Benadryl first, to combat any nausea. You can feel the Benadryl as it's cold in your blood stream. It puts most of the patients to sleep. A lot of them request blankets, the lady next to me had two. But, I'm one of the few that gets wired on Benadryl. Instead of a lounge chair, I'm ready for a treadmill. Like I would actually run! I sit on the edge of the lounge chair, fidgeting, trying to read a book, antsy. Sometimes I stand as sitting is so uncomfortable. But, it doesn't take long before the procedure is over with.
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Three weeks ago, two of my grandchildren lost their grandfather to cancer. He was diagnosed after I was. Unfortunately, he was given three to six months to live. So, they had two grandparents with cancer at the same time. One dies. One lives.
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It's a hard journey for them now. One needs to check on me often.
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I've figured it out. Cancer is about caring for people. I've seen and felt how cancer patients are treated by others. Your true friends come across for you. Others disappear. It's been a learning process.
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Sharman, a dear friend of mine of over thirty years has shown me what caring means, a get well card once or twice a week, small gifts relevant to cancer. I know I need to do the same thing with friends of my own. Just be there. Show you care.
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Rosalyn, a new friend, is a true joy. So positive, so knowledgeable, so generous. She bought pink straw hats for our little writer's group. The hat doesn't have a brim in the back which is perfect for chemo, as you can wear it and lean back in a lounger at the same time. But she challenges me, which is what I need now. Someone to push me, make me think, make me happy. She does all of that and more.
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I'm on a lot of group loops and I find that others are kind with sending prayers, cheering me on this journey, and reading about what's happening in my life. Then there comes a private email from several of them, asking how I'm feeling. A special touch. I need to remember that as well.
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Some people who were friends of mine haven't stepped up to the plate. That saddens me. I thought that they were friends, but they let too much time elapse, and now I don't want them back in my life because I don't want to be hurt again. Maybe I should open my heart to them, but I'd rather spend my limited amount of energy on those who have shown what real friendship is about.
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My family has been so supportive. The hubby of decades worries about me all the time. He checks in on me often during the day. I feel his morning kiss on my head while I'm in that slumberland where you're not quite awake. So, even after all these years, we're closer than ever before. We talk in the car driving to and from chemo, over luncheon afterwards, on the patio in the afternoons when we take a break, have a drink, coke zero for me, and enjoy our home. It's so peaceful and serene on my patio. The birds are singing, we check to see if the redheaded woodpecker is still notching out a home on the telephone pole across from the driveway, the occasional squirrel, the blue jay and yellow bellied warbler fighting for territorial rights, the cat and kittens who decided to live with us and who sneak around the corners of the property. The beautiful plants, especially the climbing pink Mandeville. Life goes on.
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The kids and grand kids have also shown me great love. They don't mind me walking around with no hair. I have a fuzzy growth now, but not enough to disguise the fact that I'm baldish. I've learned that hats make your head sweat, I didn't know that. So, I'll wear one for awhile, then am happy to take it off and cool off the dome. My doctor said that several women wear scarves under their hats, I can't get a scarf to stay on the head, so I don't bother fooling with them. Though I do have two that are gorgeous.
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So, maybe I was destined to have treatable cancer to learn some lessons. If I had to say what those lessons would be, they are:
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Be a caring wife, mother, grandmother, friend.
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Be patient. I keep wishing that I was finished on this journey, but maybe its important that the road be longer than I like.
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Listen to others, what they are really saying underneath the words they speak.
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Always tell my family, "I love you"...they need to know that I do.
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Life is good...enjoy it to the fullest!
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I Can Do This

Finding out that you have cancer is a life altering sentence.
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First you're hit with fear. Will I die? Can they kill it? What's going to happen to me?
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The oncologist talks to you, but your mind doesn't catch everything. What did she mean by 50/50 chance? I finally figured it out. I have a 50/50 chance of developing breast cancer even after treatment.
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The first few weeks of chemo were the hardest for me. I honestly believe that they need to prescribe anxiety/depression medicine when they tell you that you have cancer.
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It took me awhile to get over that anxiety/depression. Every time I started to slide to the dark side, I would think, "I can do this."
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I prayed. I prayed to every person I knew who was no longer with me, and to God. I'd cry at night, my mind full of fear. Then I'd say, "I can do this."
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"I can do this."
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Four little words. But they helped bolster my spirits. "I can do this."
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I can, and you can too.
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There is nothing in this world that you can't stare down if you believe. Believe in yourself and in others, but mainly yourself.
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For some reason, I've been in a dark mood the past week. It might be because I'm exhausted all the time. Every chore is time-consuming. Making the bed takes a long time. First the bottom sheet. Rest. Then the top sheet. Rest again. Then the comforter, the pillows. Then throwing myself on the made up bed to rest again.
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It's not fun, but I can't give up. "I can do this."
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That's my mantra. It's what's holding me together.
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