Chemo Eve

The day before chemo, affectionately known as Chemo Eve, is usually a day that I dread. 

 I finally get feeling good, and yet I know what I am about to be in for all over again.

But there is no dread today. 

 There is actually some excitement. Why, you ask? 

 Because tomorrow is chemo #6 which is my LAST CHEMO!!!!!

I am so excited to get this part of my treatment over and done with.  I am ready to start feeling normal again and to get rid of the small pharmacy that lives on my dresser.

I went from a girl that rarely needed medicine, to one who has six prescription bottles and about the same number of over-the-counter meds.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for all those bottles because each one holds relief for a side-effect of chemo.  I could not have made it through these past months without them.  But I will gratefully trade them all in for some that will help with the next phase of treatment.

So after five rounds of chemo, many people are curious about what it has been like.

It has not been like what you may see in the movies--cancer patient lying on the bathroom floor too weak to move to from all the throwing-up. 

I am fortunate to have only thrown up once during this whole ordeal.  Although I do have under-lying nausea, I have three different nausea meds that hold it at bay and make it more of an annoyance than a real problem.

The real side effects are ones you don't hear of much.  Each one by themselves aren't that big of a deal, but all together, they become draining.

The biggest one is fatigue. 

 It seems to be a cumulative side effect which means it gets worse with each round.  It is the kind of fatigue that no amount of sleep can cure.  It is the kind that makes your legs and arms feel weighted down.  It is difficult to lift anything heavy, and a walk to the mailbox leaves my heart pounding and me panting for breath.

Then there are a myriad of little ones: 

constant dripping nose--a combo of one of my meds plus the absence of nose hair

a thick and fuzzy- feeling tongue

changes in the way food tastes

a heightened sense of smell that makes everything overpowering

sores in my nose

 stomach distress in one form or the other

insomnia

restless legs

hot flashes

dry skin and eyes

forgetfulness
headache
achy bones and joints

When I was a child, my dad affectionately called me a hypochondriac, because I evidently complained over every ache and pain. 

I hated being called that, and have tried to change that about myself.

But, hey I have cancer, and I feel like I am owed a little complaining.

I feel sure my dad would be okay with it :)

However, I know people who have had a much worse time with chemo than I have.  

I am grateful that my side-effects have not been completely debilitating, and I truly believe that that is in part due to the many, many prayers offered on my behalf.  

In the beginning of this crazy ride, I felt like life was suspended until I got through treatment, and I spent a lot of my days worrying and in fear.

Somewhere along the line, I realized that no one knows what the future holds and that I needed to enjoy each day I was blessed with, no matter how I felt physically.

So in the midst of misery, I have had a lot of moments of laughter and silliness,

hugs and kisses, and tender moments with family and friends.
  I have loved having my family pile in bed with me and watch ridiculous TV shows.
  I have  been able to just sit quietly outside and taken in the beauty of spring, the warm sun, the laughter of my children and grandchildren. I have enjoyed being able to go to some my girls' ball games and watching my grandson run around and call me "Mimi."
I love that most nights I am still able to tuck my children into bed and have prayers with them.

And I am still completely blown away by all the messages, meals, cards, books, quilts, flowers, and other sweet gifts and rememberances too numerous and diverse to name.

There is no way to thank everyone, but I am forever grateful for the outpouring of love.

I still have surgery and then radiation looming in the near future, and while I am not looking forward to them, I am looking forward to continuing to enjoy the little things that make life sweet in the process.

I will leave you with a few pictures of one of those sweet moments. 

 This past Friday, I got to go with Lydia's class to SeaWorld.

  She and I had a beautiful day of what we liked to call "slow fun."

I am sure at times she wished she was running with her friends from one roller-coaster to the next, but she valiantly stuck by my side as we ambled along, stopping to sit and enjoy all the amazing shows, enjoy some good food, and talk about everything under the sun--except cancer. 

 It was a magical day that I will always treasure.

Cutest 5th grader around!

This is how I feel about finishing chemo!

Such a happy day!