I’m angry. Unfortunately, I am so fatigued my anger comes out as tears and frustration versus the throwing or kicking I’d rather do. I don’t even have the energy to vent my frustrations. A cardio-kickboxing class or a really loud spin class would make me feel better; except that I couldn’t survive either one right now.
Chemo is kicking my ass. The treatment days are fine. One of the drugs you get on treatment day is a steroid that does wonderful things for energy. It wears off when the treatment is done, and you’re left feeling just weak and tired.
Let’s back up. We had Cycle #2 as a 5-day in patient event. I thought I was doing great during that. I didn’t know about the steroids – they are also anti-nausea meds. The last day, the doctor was warning me that I’d probably crash for a couple days at home. I didn’t believe him. And then it happened. Two days of sitting idly in my living room generally not caring – except when I cared. When I realized I just sat, too tired to do much beyond getting a drink or some food, I was devastated. How was I going to function? I figured out that I could drag myself to the shower. After the shower I was out of breath and couldn’t lift my arms. So, I’d lay in bed for a bit until I felt better, then finish dressing. Then rest more. Thank goodness for a neighbor who made chicken soup in individual servings for my freezer. With that, I ate. After a while I made it to work. Slow, but made it. Slow, but got things done for a couple days as my energy returned.
There was a fantastic weekend in which I had energy, I was hungry, I ate full meals, and I did things. I was on top of the world. I can do this, I said. I thought I had conquered the in-patient cycles.
The following Monday I couldn’t get out of bed. Shivering so bad the headboard rattled. I knew I was dehydrated, but I couldn’t bring myself to get to the kitchen for a beverage. Fever spiked and I was on my way to the treatment center/hospital. I was admitted with the fever, my white blood cells were gone, my red blood cells were very low. And I got a double whammy with an intestinal infection. Three days in the hospital, and the news that I would not be able to travel to Chicago for a meeting I had been looking forward to. By the second day, I knew it had to be. I never left the bed. I slept and fevered and slept and fevered. Not only could I not make it to Chicago, I couldn’t concentrate to read a document.
It takes this to realize you are not in control of anything. And I think we’ve established, I prefer control.
A slew of antibiotics and rest, and I was climbing back on top of things. My blood counts were back on track in time for Cycle #3. Again with the steroids, so there’s a day and half in which one thinks, ‘oh, yeah, I’m fine.’ And then they wear off. This time with two additional drugs. We didn’t want my white blood cells to drop again, so I got a helper injection for that. Plus another drug to help with anxiety/stress. Treatment and two new medications. I slept for a weekend; too tired to even worry about how tired I was. I thought I kicked it by Monday. It took a while to get it together, but I dragged myself to work. I made it about an hour or so. I had to go home. Too exhausted to hold my head up. Fatigue is a crazy thing. You think you are tired, but sleep doesn’t help. Your body is just too spent to DO anything.
And that is why I am angry. And this:

• I’m three cycles into 17 and the effects are cumulative. I’m scared I won’t find a system to function within during this year.
• I needed to lie down after a shower because my arms were too weak/tired/spent to get dressed; how is that functional?
• I have excessive guilt about work. I need to work, but I can’t put in the hours I want to. There are things to get done, but I can’t do them all.
• Being outdoors and walking are proven to help, and there are times I can barely make it outside.
• A friend died last night and stupid chemo side effects kept me from seeing her one last time, one last hug.
• I want to take advantage of helpful therapies like yoga or massage, and I worry about making an appointment I can’t keep because who knows if I’ll be able to get up and about that day.
• I’m afraid every plan I make or every event/meeting/get together or family function I plan on will be ripped away because of chemo.
• I am skilled at organizing and finding solutions to help and I haven’t found a solution yet.
• I worry about being a burden and even though I know I’m supposed to ask for help, I don’t know what to ask for. How do I ask for it to just be easier?

Early on, the doctor said it would be hard. It’s an aggressive cancer, so it’s an equally aggressive chemotherapy. And because this is usually a treatment for kids, and kids can take it better, I was warned it would be hard. But I felt good. That’s the absurdity that keeps coming around. I felt good. I felt fine. I never felt sick. So, sure, I figured I could handle the treatment. But it is hard. Harder than I thought. Not just the treatment or side effects; the emotional strain, the constant worry, the loss of control, the appointments, the bald head, the dry hands (oh my gosh, my hands are so dry), the struggle to find something to eat, the difficulty to stay hydrated, and the complete, utter bullshit situation that I have to take breaks in typing all this because my arms are too tired to stay at the keyboard.
So, I’m angry. I’m sad and I’m angry. I’m not beat yet, but if I’m going to journal this honestly, then I need to acknowledge the crap days.