Back when I was going to the gym, I would play a game with myself to get through workouts that were wearing thin. Doing intervals on an elliptical, I might get through one and think, hey, that was doable, now just 10 more. Same with a good walk. Hey, that mile was okay, 2 more to go! This is a fine trick and keeps my mind busy. If nothing else, I’m distracted while doing the math trying to figure out what’s left in the workout. Before I know it, the workout is half done. It’s important to note, however, that this trick does NOT work for crunches on a BOSU ball – those are evil
This method seemed a good idea in the beginning of chemo. Seventeen cycles; after the first one, I’m thinking, okay, 16 to go! It worked for a while. Even when we approached and then passed the half-way point in treatments, it seemed good for a few days. Woohoo! Half-way! Then one morning during recovery of the half-way treatment, I was about to go get dressed. I was low energy and dehydrated. I knew I needed to rest for a few before attempting a whole get-dressed thing. lay on the bed and started to think. Thinking, by the way… not always good. It hit me hard. Half way! Just do it one more time and we’re done. One more time. For real? One. More. Time.???
No.
It wasn’t like that I’m-almost-done-with-my-workout mind trick. It was the sudden realization that I had to do it again. The blood draws, the dehydration, the low energy, the constant worry over how the body is functioning, the back aches (chemo gives me back aches a couple days after each treatment, like someone pummeled my back with rod), the tired, the digestive issues, the smells, the lack of taste buds, the bald head, the dry skin, and the stress. We just survived 6 months of it. I couldn’t do another 6 months!  The first 6 were hard; I just don’t want to do it again.
My best meltdowns employ a mixture of sobbing, anger, and denial. Generally, it goes something like, “what if they were wrong?” Maybe I don’t have Ewings Sarcoma. I mean, it’s so unlikely, how can it be? What if I’m going through all this insanity for nothing???? Eventually, logic wins out and I remember (or am reminded gently) that the slides were sent to a specialist, who studied it down to the chromosomes to confirm that it is what it is.
Then we turn on a dime.
Somewhere at the end of this half-way meltdown I got back to the realization that it was just 8 more cycles: 4 in-patient, 4 out-patient. Only 4 more in-patient?? Here’s where you find out I’m crazy. I love my nurses and CAPs and all the people at the hospital that take care of me when I’m there. I suddenly worried for missing them. I mean, these awesome people, even when they aren’t assigned to me, stop in to visit when they have down time. Over all this time, you can’t help but get to know each other. Kathy assures me I can visit them after treatments are done; I don’t have to be sick to see them. Interesting approach, ‘eh?
I’ve just finished Cycle #10. Seven left: 4 out-patient, 3 in-patient. At 3 weeks per cycle, that’s 21 weeks, plus the 2 more to finish this current cycle. If all stays on plan, my last cycle will be in March and the last 3-week cycle will wrap up just before Easter. Easter is new beginnings. A fresh start. I find it fitting.
It won’t be over then, though. It’s getting harder. It’s beating me up more lately; harder to recover. The chemo kicks the white and red blood cells’ butts. They aren’t recovering as fast as they did before, but they do eventually recover. And so will I.
So, we did the first half. Now, we’re just going to have to do the second half. Might as well finish what we’ve started, right? It won’t be long ‘til I’m on a treadmill convincing myself that the first 10 minutes was a breeze, so I might as well do it a few more times. I’ve still got 6 months or so to figure out how to convince Trainer Debbie that crunches on the BOSU are not necessary…or maybe bad for my health. I wonder I can get the social workers at MSTI to write a letter excusing me?