Chemo #3

Gahhhh, I've been trying to fight off the flu for the last couple of days but it got me on Monday night.

Timing couldn't be worse with a plummeting white cell count one week after chemo. It was inevitable I suppose, my boys have had it for the past week and all that Harry and Jack want when they're sick are 'Mummy Cuddles'. I'm determined to stay out of hospital as much as I can help it, so instead of rushing to the ER when I spiked a raging temp at 10pm, I shivered and shook my way through the night in the hope that my fever would break and neutropenia wouldn't set in. And it worked...eventually...about 4am.

I've been pushing myself through the days to try and keep up with the boys. They are rather energetic little dinosaurs so occasional snatches of rest between occupying them, refereeing arguments and attending to their needs are coveted indeed.

Mind over matter helps...forcing myself to take the boys to the park yesterday was a good thing. Fresh air and sunshine lift the spirits even if the body is weary. I keep telling myself that I'm feeling so much better and it keeps me going until hubby gets home which is when I collapse in a heap into bed.

Despite the sneezles and wheezles I think I'm physically doing ok one week post chemo. Round number three was so much better than the previous two. Was typically fine during the treatment, felt very queasy about an hour after it finished and then lost a day somewhere, tucked up in a quiet single room in the acute section of oncology, conked out on sleeping pills and ondansetron. I was home from hospital after two days, feeling nauseous and tired but very much able to manage. I am so glad that my body is adjusting and responding better as time marches on.

Emotionally it was a challenging week. I appreciate the staff in oncology but I really don't want to be in there any more. One of the women I spent two weeks sharing a room with passed away a few days before my treatment. It filled me with such sadness. I'm glad that I made the effort to visit her and gave her the headscarf I'd promised her. Don't put things off people...just do it! She was just ten years older than me, with two teenage girls. I thought about her a lot on Monday night and the fear of dying really got to me...the fear of not being here for my boys...the fear of wasting away in a hospital bed...the fear of my family seeing me reduced to a skeletal mess, completely helpless. It was a very black feeling.

I am so very grateful for my lot, and I will give it all that I have to not end my final chapter like that. It's why I'm so determined to push on and be as normal as possible, no matter how cruddy I'm feeling. I'm grabbing onto every simple, normal moment with my kids and my husband. I want to surround myself with my friends and family and cherish life for what it is.

 

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