Where's Jacko?
After almost three months of my life being consumed by cancer and all its ramifications, I can no longer remember what it was like to be me pre-illness. I just can't see that happy, positive, funny, fearless, enthusiastic person I used to be. And I can't imagine her coming back any time soon.
There are glimpses from time to time, of course, on the days when I'm feeling "well" (comparatively speaking). Sometimes, I'm filled with my old familiar sense of well-being, where I can look optimistically at the future, take pleasure in my surroundings and laugh when Evan is entertaining me with one of his many impersonations.
But days like the one I'm having today seem to be happening more frequently as this journey continues. I'm on the third day of my second chemotherapy treatment and feeling like shit, both physically and emotionally. The constant nausea and tiredness is beginning to get to me, and everything - even having a shower - is an effort. I'm beginning to sleep a lot (thanks to low blood counts) and feel lethargic and lazy much of the time. For some reason, the pain caused by the internal healing of my incision is worse than it was a few weeks ago. I'm often on the verge of tears and lack the enthusiasm needed to alleviate the boredom beginning to dominate my days. I want to be surrounded by friends and family.
Today, I made myself walk the mile to Tesco, along my favourite Water of Leith walkway. We had sunshine today for the first time in a long time, accompanied by brisk cool winds, but pleasant all the same. I treated myself to lunch (which I couldn't finish) and picked up the Saturday papers. By the time I was waiting for the bus home, I was exhausted and in pain from my incision. I rang the bell for my stop in plenty of time but couldn't get out of my seat fast enough to make it to the door before it closed so had to walk farther because of missing my stop. Normally, this sort of thing would just make me feel a bit irritated. Today, it made me cry. And the crying stung my eyes because of one of the chemo's many weird side effects.
Before my chemo was started on Thursday, the duty oncologist had to see me to make sure I was well enough this time (it had to be postponed last time because the first session made me so ill). While he was quickly reading my medical history, I was also reading it upside down. The first paragraph started, "52-year-old woman, extremely fit, healthy and active, presenting with colorectal cancer...".
Where is she? That fit, healthy, active woman. Is she coming back?
There are glimpses from time to time, of course, on the days when I'm feeling "well" (comparatively speaking). Sometimes, I'm filled with my old familiar sense of well-being, where I can look optimistically at the future, take pleasure in my surroundings and laugh when Evan is entertaining me with one of his many impersonations.
But days like the one I'm having today seem to be happening more frequently as this journey continues. I'm on the third day of my second chemotherapy treatment and feeling like shit, both physically and emotionally. The constant nausea and tiredness is beginning to get to me, and everything - even having a shower - is an effort. I'm beginning to sleep a lot (thanks to low blood counts) and feel lethargic and lazy much of the time. For some reason, the pain caused by the internal healing of my incision is worse than it was a few weeks ago. I'm often on the verge of tears and lack the enthusiasm needed to alleviate the boredom beginning to dominate my days. I want to be surrounded by friends and family.
Today, I made myself walk the mile to Tesco, along my favourite Water of Leith walkway. We had sunshine today for the first time in a long time, accompanied by brisk cool winds, but pleasant all the same. I treated myself to lunch (which I couldn't finish) and picked up the Saturday papers. By the time I was waiting for the bus home, I was exhausted and in pain from my incision. I rang the bell for my stop in plenty of time but couldn't get out of my seat fast enough to make it to the door before it closed so had to walk farther because of missing my stop. Normally, this sort of thing would just make me feel a bit irritated. Today, it made me cry. And the crying stung my eyes because of one of the chemo's many weird side effects.
Before my chemo was started on Thursday, the duty oncologist had to see me to make sure I was well enough this time (it had to be postponed last time because the first session made me so ill). While he was quickly reading my medical history, I was also reading it upside down. The first paragraph started, "52-year-old woman, extremely fit, healthy and active, presenting with colorectal cancer...".
Where is she? That fit, healthy, active woman. Is she coming back?
posted by Jacki | 7:55 PM
1 Comments:
Can't find your email address (I'm at work) so must send birthday greetings via the public forum. . . have a great birthday despite the trials and tribulations of your battle - and keep fighting. Just keep thinking that the worst is over.
Happy Birthday!
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