Wow, that sucked

The past week was a bit rough. Starting on Thursday, the effects of my third cycle of chemo started to kick in. I again felt like my body had aged decades overnight, and the heartburn and stomach cramps slowly chipped away at my positive attitude. By Saturday, the fatigue was forcing me to nap every few hours. 

Saturday was an eye-opening day for me. Between my naps, I knew I needed to move. The weather was nice, so I decided to take a walk outside with Jason. During the first five minutes of my walk, I held Jason's hand and leaned on him like a crutch. My feet barely moved inches with each step, and all I could think about was how much pain I felt in my legs and hips. I began talking myself into a dark place, down a hole that's easy to get lost in. Half holding my own weight, half being carried by Jason, I told him I couldn't do it, and we turned around to walk the twenty feet back home. 

At some point within those twenty feet, I looked down at my body. It looked no different than it had three months ago, and yet there I was, a 29-year-old vessel of outward health, being dragged back home. I felt intense anger. Not at the situation, not at the chemo, not at the cancer, but at myself. I wasn't even trying to find the strength to walk. I wasn't one-hundred years old, I was twenty-nine, damn it. Standing on the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face, I made a decision.  I was at least going to try.

Jason, afraid to let me go, cautiously kept one arm extended to catch me should I collapse. After a few steps,  I realized I could walk, slowly, but unassisted. We passed a few neighbors, and I'm sure I looked like a stubborn two-year-old in a temper-tantrum--hands balled up into fists, crying, stomping along in defiance. It was a great feeling.

After my little victory on Saturday, I really thought Sunday would be better. Unfortunately, the fatigue was so bad, and I was so worn out from the stomach cramps, that I slept most of the day. 

By Monday, I felt like something the cat had dragged in. I went to the hospital Monday morning for my scheduled blood work-up, and I wasn't the least bit surprised to learn that I again went neutropenic. Since my blood counts dropped so low, the doctors will keep the chemo drugs at the same level as my previous cycles.

Today, I'm finally starting to feel like I'm emerging from my bad days. I'm still tired , but at least my body doesn't feel so old. I'll attempt to update this blog a bit more over the next few days while I'm feeling ok. 

Until then, thank you again to everyone for all of the messages and cards! I love every single one of them, and I look forward to replying to each of you individually some time soon!