Chemo Brain. I've succumbed.

I'm so disappointed. I've had to defer from my studies. Having plowed through a double advanced dip in management and HR while I was in treatment I assumed, wrongly, that I could continue and do the last 8 subjects to complete a degree. No.

My brain will not work properly and I honestly think it is getting worse. My body is a wreck. The pressure of dealing with the aftermath of this round of treatment, financial misery, a new job and study has done me in. After a couple of excruciating weeks of trying desperately to keep juggling I've come to the sensible, but devastating, conclusion that something has to give. I can do nothing about the side effects and I have to work or I will go completely down the financial gurgler. The only stress I can dispense with is the study. It breaks my heart.

I can do so much, but faced with a 7500 essay plus attachments I've reached my limits. I simply can not retain a train of thought for long enough to do anything properly. This is exhausting and demoralizing. I get a couple of thousand words done, have to leave it for a few days then come back to discover I have absolutely no idea how I got to the point where I left off.

I don't give a shit about being told that I'll improve. The world won't stop while I limp around in circles trying to get my act together.

Now I find that the benign looking lump that has appeared on my eyelid needs immediate attention. This has meant travelling back and forward to Melbourne to consult with an opthalmic  plastic surgeon who has agreed, reluctantly, to remove the fucking thing under a local as opposed to her preferred process of doing it under sedation. In the Epworth. Yeah, right, like I can afford that. Waiting lists for the Eye and Ear are ridiculous and I need this thing gone.Sitting still and sucking it up will save me about $6k. But it is the final straw.

The whole business of recovery eclipses treatment. You know, there have been a few ladies lately who have asked for advice about undergoing chemo when the stats don't seem very convincing. I always feel like screaming RUN AWAY! Of course, we shouldn't do that, but I sure as shit wish I'd taken my own personal council. At least then there would be half a chance of a decent life until the cancer train finally runs me down. End rant.