Daily,
Weekly, Annually, Every Now and Again
Daily
Every day I have support. I am one of the
lucky ones and I know it. Messages, calls, pop ins, meals; I have a bunch of
friends who have come out of the woodwork to support my cancer process and my
family. I am forever grateful. I am a ‘people person’ and I need this love. I
don’t know how anyone would do this alone. It’s my ‘love bank’ and it’s in the
black!
Weekly
I have moved on to weekly chemotherapy. As
I write, I’ve had four of the 12 sessions. It’s accumulative so you don’t quite
get over each week and they hit you with another dose. There are many side
effects, including tingling or numbing of fingertips and toes, which may or may
not be reversible. Thankfully that has evaded me. I really have had no side
effects apart from a day of diarrhea each time. This time (No. 4) I have an
appalling dry mouth and feel like each limb is twice as heavy as usual. This
was the main reason for a mega meltdown today but I’ll bounce back tomorrow. My
hair has started to grow back. You would need a magnifying glass to see it, but
it’s coming… white, fuzzy, soft stuff!
Annually
I was lucky to celebrate my 50th
birthday recently. It was a wonderful evening with people dear to me and I felt
very appreciated and loved. But turning 50 isn’t a magical line that once
crossed the health checks begin. I got cancer at 49 and probably had it growing
much earlier than that. I’ll never forget the words of one of the nurses in the
ultrasound room when I was diagnosed, ‘Why haven’t you been having mammograms?’
(Maybe I was looking old that day? J) My thinking
was that women start those when they’re 50, I was 49 with no family history.
My point in this rant is to get a health
check each year. Perhaps the week before a birthday is a good time and then you
can really celebrate that birthday. Don’t start at 50. Start at 18 or 21 or
whenever, but START! Learn about your body before the learning is so steep it
rocks your world to its core.
Every
now and again
I lose my shit. I hate being here, stuck in
this diseased body, feeling unwell. Every now and then it’s all too hard and I
cry, really cry. I get angry and wonder what the hell this is all about. I feel
sad and sorry for myself and I take it out on those who love me the most.
This is normal.
This is when I draw on the ‘love bank’.
And it doesn’t last long and I get on with
it again.
X
Kristina
