I’m not writing in my Journal everyday now, for two reasons; I have either nothing to write about because all I have done is sleep, or because I just feel too tired to pick up a pen and write. I must make the effort and keep it up with though, as writing down the events of what I am going through is becoming more of a therapy to me than anything else.
Here I can talk about anything, not just about the chemo and its crappy side effects, but I can talk about my deepest inner thoughts and emotions. My journal doesn’t ridicule me; it doesn’t judge me, tell me what to do or laugh at me when I come out with silly little things that may sound stupid to others. It just stays quiet and listens.
Today is Thursday 11th September 2007 and the problem I have right now is where to start. The last time I wrote was about my sixth chemo, two weeks ago. Well how I have I been since then?
Well!! The answer to that is; CRAP!
So why have I said ‘CRAP and the biggy is; how do I put it into words of how I am and been feeling?
Well here goes. Therapy time, bare with me as things may become a bit haywire as I try to get out ALL what is on my mind.
Everything is going wrong. When I started this journey, I was strong, positive and confident that I could do it, and without all the side effects that they told me I would experience. Yes I have gotten away with the majority of them, but the ones that I have got are taking their toll which is leaving me right down bloody miserable.
You already know that the tiredness is really taken over me to the point that I am sleeping most of the time, when I am awake; I’m still not in the land of the living. My mind drifts off and I find myself surround by nasty shapes; Dark, ugly and vicious. I find myself in the virtual world of my cancer squatters. Going into autopilot I try to catch each one with a pair of tweezers to pull them out one by one. The process is becoming more and more difficult as it seems that my concentration is broken by ‘Karen are you listening’ or ‘Karen where are you’ or sometimes just with an abrupt ‘Karen’, which startles me back to reality, Then I have to talk which these days is a chore as I find it too tiring and also very frustrating, due to not being able to remember words, simple words, words that I have used every single day, Simple questions such as; ‘Do you want a drink’ takes a lot of energy and time as I try to work out what the question is actually asking and then try to think of the correct word for the answer. This process takes time and because I am not answering straight away, it is getting to Lee. He has said a few times that I am just being ignorant. I’m not; I’m just not making sense of things. I’m not an ignorant person, I want to scream at the remark, but I don’t, I don’t have the energy and I don’t want to turn it into a blazing row, so I just let it lie.
I don’t feel like me anymore. This cancer or should I say the chemo, has eaten away at the person I am bit by bit to the point that I don’t recognise myself. I look in the mirror and see a stranger, and not just because I am bald. My skin has become pasty and yellow, my whole face is puffed up to resemble the Michelin man, and my mouth doesn’t look like mine either, as my lips have become thinner. Which is either because of my pob looking cheeks that have gotten way out of control or a knock on effect to my gums receding? Did I mention that? I’m not sure and can’t remember if I did or not. I’m not too sure when it started as I didn’t write it down, but I noticed that my front lower teeth were becoming very sensitive and my gum had receded down so far that a root of a tooth was actually showing. I mentioned it to my oncologist who advised NOT to go to the dentist until after the chemo was done, he gave me some mouth wash and some antibacterial mouth drops to swish around my mouth several times a day. I have always looked after my teeth and have never had to have any fillings or anything, and now the chemo is spoiling all that and I’m scared I’m going to lose my teeth.
My eyes have the biggest dark circles around them now, they appear sunken and when I look into my eyes? They look empty. I have always believed that you can see the real person of someone by their eyes. The eyes reveal the type of person that you are and mine at the moment don’t show anything. I stare at my reflection, trying to find me in there, I know I’m there somewhere, but I can’t find me. All I see is sadness which makes me feel sadder than I already feel. I am beginning to wonder if I will ever be me again. Will I bounce back to what and who I used to be after the treatment is all done, or will I still be a person that even I don’t recognise anymore?
Another part of me is my personality; I have read so many times that this is one part of you that cancer cannot take away. But I am beginning to think differently. Where has all the laughter gone, my stupid moments that used to have people in stitches. I am not saying that I am or was the comedian of the year, far from it; don’t forget I was blonde and therefore had many many blonde moments. These are the moments that I speak of. When I would say something really dumb or stupid, but would be able to laugh at myself as much if not more than anyone else. The laughter is disappearing. I have become a coach potato. Ironic though as I’m quite content to do that, but at the same time I’m crying out inside to do what is me and that is get out there and live.
Lee is keeping me going, he is making me laugh and just of late, that task is getting harder and harder for him to do. Where would I be without him? Now that question is something that I don’t even dare to imagine. Realistically I don’t really need to imagine cos I already know. I would have given up and given in to the cancer and its treatments, only to travel down the deep road of depression that is impossible to get out of. I am beginning to wonder if I am already travelling down that path. I can’t let myself go down there. I don’t think I am. I think it’s just a build up of the tiredness, the lack of taste, the sore mouth, the aching that my body is now experiencing, the hot flushes and the lack of proper sleep. All these side effects are bound to have an effect and right now that effect is; I have had enough. I want off the rollercoaster. I want my old life back.
I know crying into my journal isn’t the answer, but I do know that talking is. I am talking to Lee, but I am finding it hard to get the right words out, which is making me feel more frustrated and so all that comes out is tears. I can cry here and gabble on to my heart’s content and maybe by getting it out, I will be able to pick myself back up. I hope so.
I have said before that my family and Lee say that I hide how I truly feel. I have told Lee that he can pick up my journal anytime he likes to read what I say in here. Not that he would find it very interesting, just me gabbling on about silly stuff and stuff that he already knows because I have told him anyway My mum on the other hand doesn’t believe a word I say half the time. Lately she has questioned my answer of ‘I’m fine’ with “Now How are you really”. Which obviously I have told her “Really I am fine”. Hey it’s not my fault that she seems to ring when I’m feeling good, or Fine as I like to say, but if I am tired I have told her. Sometimes I wish she would ring on one of my down times, maybe it would do me good to have a real good cry about it to someone else as its mainly when Lee is at work and I’m on my own that I have these moments. I was close to ringing her the other day, but after holding the phone for a good half our thinking what to say. The moment had gone and I was fine again
It’s the long hours spent on my own that is the problem; it gives me way too much time to think about things, way too much time dwelling on the situation and way too much time thinking of the ‘What if’s’. It’s my inner thoughts that are dangerous. Dwelling and visualising scenarios rather than focusing on the positives and looking forward. So what do I Dwell on, that is obvious. I’m still dwelling on the fact that ‘Dr X’ called me paranoid. Lee tells me not to dwell on things and not to worry. He tells me that I am strong and can do this. He tells me I will be done soon and can start putting our lives back together. Yes; I said ‘our lives’. This cancer isn’t just affecting me; it’s affecting everyone else around me, my family and most of all Lee. Lee is the one that has watched me change by each passing day, getting more tired and weaker from the chemo and yet, he still smiles and makes jokes as always. I have noticed that he too goes off into his own little world. What is he thinking? But yet, not once has he talked to me about how he is feeling. I know the changes in me are getting to him, I’ve already said he’s calling me ignorant for not answering him straight away when he talks to me or asks a question. It’s bound to get to him.
While I have been sitting here writing and thinking how I have been, I have realised that the big change this last two weeks is the change in my temperament. I am snapping and taking everything out on Lee.
The other day Lee asked me if I wanted a cuppa, he was patient and waited for me to answer in my own time. “I’ll make it” I said. “Are you sure” he asked. “I’m not bloody useless” I snapped as I barged passed him, leaving him bewildered to what he had said to annoy me so much. I stormed into the kitchen holding back tears and slammed around putting the kettle on and spooning the coffee into the mugs, but something didn’t feel right, my fingers felt weird. Tingling and feeling quite numb, I dropped the spoon and thousands of coffee granules spilled across the kitchen work top and onto the floor. That was it; I dropped to the floor curling up into a ball, crying uncontrollably. Lee was straight to my side with his arms around me. We sat on the kitchen floor just hugging each other for what seemed like the longest time. The only thing that came out of my mouth repeatedly was “I’m so sorry”. Lee comforted me crouched down on that kitchen floor long after I had calmed down and then tried to make light of the situation by saying “I’m dying of thirst here, you know” I managed a smile and while I sat back on the sofa, Lee made the drinks. Why had I snapped, he hadn’t even said I was useless, he was just offering to make me a drink but yet, I had snapped and now made myself feel even worse because I had realised what I had done.
The thing is, it’s not only Lee that I’m snapping at. It’s Luke too. He’s only 8 years old and yet I am snapping at him for silly little things. He’s a kid for God sake not a young adult. Leaving crumbs on worktops, trailing in dirt and leaving toys out are what kids do, but yet I snap at him to clear up after himself. This is not me; I’ve always been so placid. I’ve turned into the wicked witch of the west and don’t know how to control it. I don’t know how to control me and it scares me that I will get worse.
I know I should be thankful that the cancer was at last picked up, that I am having the treatment to get rid of it, and that I am alive. But the main factor here is that this cancer has taken away me. Taken away the way I look, the way I feel and the way I react with people. If I don’t recognise me, then how the hell can anyone else. How is Lee putting up with me?
To make matters worse is the thought of the chemo is now making me feel sick. Not the actual chemo just the thought of the awful stuff. Each passing day when I think of how long it is until my next dose, my stomach churns, I swear that I can smell it and even taste it. I feel so sick to the point that my mouth waters with that nasty taste of acid followed by my whole body going hot and cold, this sends me all dizzy where I feel I’m going to pass out. I cannot believe that two weeks has gone by already and tomorrow I am back at the oncologist for my blood work ready for my next dose on Monday. I am dreading it, dreading the smell, the long wait to get started and the long process of it invading my veins and body, not to mention the way it makes me feel with all the steroids that I have to take with it.
I have lost count this last 2 weeks at the amount of times I have cried and the words ‘I can’t do this anymore’ have come out of my mouth, but yet I know I have to carry on. I have to be more patient, learn to accept help more and maybe try and count to ten if something bugs me so I don’t go snapping everyone’s heads off anymore. I have to get back to the more positive person that I have been. But how do I do that, when it is happening so fast that I don’t have time to think about what I am doing or about to do.
Is it a question of coming to terms with how I look and how the treatment is making feel? But I thought I had already done that. I embraced my hair falling out as a good sign, I accepted that I was gaining weight and I have accepted that I will have a very long operation that will leave me disfigured. I embraced all these things because I know deep down that they will at the end of the day save my life.
To Do List:
Smile and think happy thoughts
Put some slap on my face
Stop lying around and get out more with Max
Look deeper to see the beauty in the things
Try relaxation and meditation
