Guess What? Life is going to suck for you the next 6 months! Congratulations!
It'a about to get real peeps.
I have been tired. I have been sick. I have been sick and tired.
FOR A LONG TIME.
But I never dreamed they would ever tell me I had cancer. The big C. I mean. Geez. Seriously. Enough already. I feel like I have already gone through enough in my life that I really don't need to add in a big scary disease on top of it.
Obviously God has other plans.
The good news? The doctors are *pretty* sure they got it all.
The bad news? The doctors are not *absolutely* sure they got it all.
"Cancer cells are microscopic and as such you just have no way of knowing that the surgery removed it all completely and since it was in your lymph nodes we need to do 12 rounds of Chemo just to be sure it doesn't come back..." and blah, blah, blah.
Honestly it's hard not to scream at them when they are telling you they are going to pump you full of poison for the next 6 months.
"You will need to drive to Mercy in the City (about 100 miles away) on day number 1 where you will be at the hospital for anywhere from 3 to 5 hours for your appointments and infusion and then you will be outfitted with a pump that will give you a continuous infusion for another 48 hours and then you will need to drive back to the city to have the pump flushed and removed."
SIX MONTHS OF THIS?!?!?!? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??
But no... I sit there like the good ADULT I am and say "mmm hmmm..." and "of course..." and then there comes a point where I just tune out and nod my head just to make them think I am listening when what I really want to do is go all out He-Man Masters of the Universe on them and raise up my crazy cool sword and "I HAVE THE POWER!!!" in the big booming echoing voice and end up losing my mind and.... going to jail... and never see my family again... and not having access to good pain meds... and yeah. Adult Amanda it is.
I schedule a port placement and I go in and have that done. Next is Chemo class where they tell you that your life is going to suck for the next 6 months and less then one week later on Tuesday Morning I am sitting in Chemo Chair NUMERO UNO for my very 1st cycle!
About 36 hours (Late afternoon Wednesday) later I am crying like I am dying because: 1- I feel like I am dying and: 2 - I am scared that I am dying - and I end up in the ER for them to tell me I am NOT dying. And I'm all like "NOT YET!!!" (Freaking moron) But do I say that? Nope. I say "For the love of God give me something to put me out of my misery!!!" Ok I don't really say that either. I ask my husband (Who is a saint and who should get a medal or at least a really really nice Taylor guitar) to please go ask them for some pain medicine.
Get home after 4 hours in the ER and start throwing up (cause you know, why not?) and then blissfully, finally fall asleep.... to awaken in a full blown sweat cause my hormones have been thrown out of whack... and decide that I officially hate life. Thursday I call the doctor's office and beg them to not make me go to the city to have the pump removed and throw myself on their mercy and is there ANYWHERE I can go here to have it removed?
My nurse who has met me once and obviously already loves me (I mean who doesn't?) was just the best ever and was able to call and have me come to the hospital 2 miles from my house to have it removed. So my amazing dad takes me to the hospital and then takes me back home so I can crawl back in bed. (And all along I was thinking I wasn't going to have a problem just driving myself to and from the city... The brightest light bulb, I am not.) Friday I pretty much slept all day but by the evening was able to actually make a coherent conversation without crying all over people and then Saturday was a little better and today is a little better and I expect the trend to continue until I get to the point where I figure it was all just a nasty little nightmare except : Next Week - Hey! You have to go back to the city for your 2nd cycle tomorrow....
When that time comes I'll be over here... crying in my corner.....
I have been tired. I have been sick. I have been sick and tired.
FOR A LONG TIME.
But I never dreamed they would ever tell me I had cancer. The big C. I mean. Geez. Seriously. Enough already. I feel like I have already gone through enough in my life that I really don't need to add in a big scary disease on top of it.
Obviously God has other plans.
The good news? The doctors are *pretty* sure they got it all.
The bad news? The doctors are not *absolutely* sure they got it all.
"Cancer cells are microscopic and as such you just have no way of knowing that the surgery removed it all completely and since it was in your lymph nodes we need to do 12 rounds of Chemo just to be sure it doesn't come back..." and blah, blah, blah.
Honestly it's hard not to scream at them when they are telling you they are going to pump you full of poison for the next 6 months.
"You will need to drive to Mercy in the City (about 100 miles away) on day number 1 where you will be at the hospital for anywhere from 3 to 5 hours for your appointments and infusion and then you will be outfitted with a pump that will give you a continuous infusion for another 48 hours and then you will need to drive back to the city to have the pump flushed and removed."
SIX MONTHS OF THIS?!?!?!? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??
But no... I sit there like the good ADULT I am and say "mmm hmmm..." and "of course..." and then there comes a point where I just tune out and nod my head just to make them think I am listening when what I really want to do is go all out He-Man Masters of the Universe on them and raise up my crazy cool sword and "I HAVE THE POWER!!!" in the big booming echoing voice and end up losing my mind and.... going to jail... and never see my family again... and not having access to good pain meds... and yeah. Adult Amanda it is.
I schedule a port placement and I go in and have that done. Next is Chemo class where they tell you that your life is going to suck for the next 6 months and less then one week later on Tuesday Morning I am sitting in Chemo Chair NUMERO UNO for my very 1st cycle!
About 36 hours (Late afternoon Wednesday) later I am crying like I am dying because: 1- I feel like I am dying and: 2 - I am scared that I am dying - and I end up in the ER for them to tell me I am NOT dying. And I'm all like "NOT YET!!!" (Freaking moron) But do I say that? Nope. I say "For the love of God give me something to put me out of my misery!!!" Ok I don't really say that either. I ask my husband (Who is a saint and who should get a medal or at least a really really nice Taylor guitar) to please go ask them for some pain medicine.
Get home after 4 hours in the ER and start throwing up (cause you know, why not?) and then blissfully, finally fall asleep.... to awaken in a full blown sweat cause my hormones have been thrown out of whack... and decide that I officially hate life. Thursday I call the doctor's office and beg them to not make me go to the city to have the pump removed and throw myself on their mercy and is there ANYWHERE I can go here to have it removed?
My nurse who has met me once and obviously already loves me (I mean who doesn't?) was just the best ever and was able to call and have me come to the hospital 2 miles from my house to have it removed. So my amazing dad takes me to the hospital and then takes me back home so I can crawl back in bed. (And all along I was thinking I wasn't going to have a problem just driving myself to and from the city... The brightest light bulb, I am not.) Friday I pretty much slept all day but by the evening was able to actually make a coherent conversation without crying all over people and then Saturday was a little better and today is a little better and I expect the trend to continue until I get to the point where I figure it was all just a nasty little nightmare except : Next Week - Hey! You have to go back to the city for your 2nd cycle tomorrow....
When that time comes I'll be over here... crying in my corner.....
First of all, you need to change your profile description. I am not now nor have I been friends with an idiot. Secondly, no one expects you to be strong all the time. You get to yell, you get to scream, you get to cry... you get to go all He-Man and know that someone will be there with bail money and smuggled pain meds. Lastly, if you do go He-Man you have to wear the little shorts so I can record it and we can make millions to hire a private jet to take us to Paris for our 50th birthday. You are loved. You are saved. And it's OK to be intimidated today, because ya know what? Tomorrow's another day.
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