C is for Chemotherapy
So I feel like I am almost in a place where I can be the poster-girl for 'Breast Cancer is the best thing that's ever happened to me' and there have been so many positive changes in my life since breast cancer that I really can't help but look at it this way. One of the main things that has changed for me is that I'm really looking after myself now - listening to my body and taking care of it in a way that I never really have before, but that's a post for another day. Because amongst all the positivity that I've got flying about the place here, there's one thing that I really struggle to be positive about and that's the chemo. Let's face it, chemo is a bitch.
And, it's about now - now that I've kind of gotten back on my feet from the last one, that I start thinking (worrying) about my next chemo day (even though it's a week away) and how its really just a matter of days before I'm feeling like I've been hit by a truck again. Before my body is pumped full of life-preserving poison that makes me so nauseous for two weeks that I just want to give up completely because it is never going to end. I'm obviously not very smart because I pretty much ruin my days of feeling not-so-terrible and just-a-little-terrible by having that 'chemo is only x days away' song as the soundtrack to my pre-chemo week.
All of the delightful side effects of chemo aside, there's no possible way to sugar coat it - going through chemotherapy is the biggest battle of my entire life. All the tests and needles and surgery were a walk in the park compared to this. But I have learned that even though the physical side-effects are horrific, more than anything its a mental and emotional battle. And for me, it's the little things that I do and tell myself that help me to get through it.
I'm lucky that I get to go to a very nice cancer centre for my chemo - St Vincent's Fitzroy of course. I get a very comfy chair to sit in, my family comes with me armed with funny videos on their iPads, there is lovely tea ladies that come around with a trolley and bring you toasted sandwiches and tea, and the chemo nurses are extra gorgeous. All of these things are great but I'm still sitting there hooked up to an IV of toxic waste so there are a few things that I do to help me get there. Usually on the night before I go I'll have a little cry about what's ahead. Just a little one, tears can be very therapeutic I think and its better to get it out. Then on the day even though it's the last thing I feel like doing I always put on my wig and a full face of makeup and pick something nice (but still comfy) to wear. This is my battle armour and it makes me feel like I can cope with the day. Actually, just a side point here - when I was first diagnosed and started having all sorts of horrible tests and scans I started to buy myself a lovely candle every time I had to go for a test - I really couldn't afford it but it felt like a little bit of luxury, walking into Myer or DJ's after being in the hospital was a good way to get some fresh air and exercise and it made what had been a pretty awful day, not so completely awful because now I had a lovely candle that I would burn when I got home and my room would smell nice. Some days were two-candle days like for example when I had the special form of torture that is the lymphocyntogram. Then, when I started chemo I decided that I would buy myself a new lipstick for every treatment. The first one I chose was bright pink and called 'Powerful'. Again - I couldn't really afford it but I find choosing a colour distracts me a little in the days beforehand and it makes me feel a bit prettier, and who doesn't need that when they're bald and sick? So, my chemo lippie is part of my battle armour too.
Negativity is completely banned. In fact, my family does an amazing job of just keeping me laughing throughout the whole thing. Do you know how many funny videos there are out there of goats that sound like people? One time I was laughing so much that a bunch of nurses came rushing into the cubicle because they thought I was crying. Which I basically was, but with laughter. Essentially, if it's funny - I'm into it. LOLcats, fails, bored pandas - you name it. The weird thing is that even if I feel absolutely wretched when I wake up on chemo day once I start laughing the day gets easier and I almost can't stop. Although it could be hysteria actually. No, I know it sounds really simplistic and sometimes it can be so, so hard to find something to laugh about - that's part of the battle I guess - but I really think Patch Adams was onto something.
It's the days after chemo that it's harder to laugh, but I just keep trying so I reckon that's the main thing. For me the nausea is the worst part of the side effects and I haven't had much luck with the anti-nauseas yet even though they keep changing them for me in an ongoing attempt to make it better - as I mentioned above during that first week particularly I feel fairly certain that the nausea is just never going to end. Ever. Even though I know in my head that it will. So, I try and keep as distracted as possible with a plentiful supply of books and magazines to read, funny tv shows and movies to watch (my current favourite is a mockumentary style series by Rhys Darby who you may know as Murray in Flight of the Conchords, called Short Poppies - absolutely hysterical) and I've started some little craft projects - some sewing and crochet, I find it helps to distract me if I'm actually doing something.
Fighting the chemo battle is, for me, all about the little things. Just getting through one day at a time and trying not to worry too much about what will or won't happen afterwards. Trying to find as much joy as I can in little things that go right or are beautiful. Being grateful for my family and friends who are getting me through this ordeal like troopers. Actually that's not a little thing, that's a big thing.
If you're going though chemo at the moment too - hang in there. We are strong women and we are going to smash this chemo up!
