The good news is that the oncologist was thrilled I showed up. I got a big hug for being there. She feels I am doing the right thing. I guess a lot of people chicken out. They probably are the smart ones. : )
Then, the oncologist showed a very sad face. The bad news is that because of the type of chemo I am having there will be no good days and no good week. That was pretty bad news in light of that I thought today I was supposed to feel pretty good, that they were giving me something to perk me up and keep the nausea away for today. That does not seem to be so, so I am wondering what my "bad days" are going to be like.
I felt it going in, felt it run through my heart. It was like a weight there. For me, they pour it in. The nurse sits there and pushes it right into the vein. That is for one of the drugs. The other drips. It feels so weird I cannot begin to describe it. I could feel it running through my body, and just kept trying to assure my body that all is okay. My poor heart. I could absolutely feel the drug running through there. I have never had such an experience with my heart.
The good news is I saw a teeny-tiny bird, a hummingbird, 15 flying geese, a sea gull and a turkey vulture from my chair. I did not read or play with clay. I assured my heart it was strong.
The good news is that the people are lovely, and the room has a view.
The bad news is that I don't think I have ever, ever felt this bad. I have to go back tomorrow for a shot. I have two more appointments before my two week appointment. I need to get my hair cut now. This is deep chemo and there is no fooling around on anything. Anyway, I don't feel good, but I don't feel bad, if that makes any sense. My oncologist told me that I was chosen for this treatment plan because I appear so joyful. I found myself absolutely unable to smile while this was happening. I felt like I was having a lobotomy, and my head feels like someone hammered on it from the front and the back. I am not down, and I am trying to be honest about this, so you will understand that maybe I am not going to feel so well, and perhaps, I cannot be as interactive as I had hoped. I feel really spacy and when I do gather the energy to think about doing something, I think some more. I just can't seem to do it.
Steve, Jeff, and Chris are here, and I am able to eat, and they are taking good care of me.
I did buy the book by Lance Armstrong, as they have a huge photo of him in the room. What I have read so far leads me to believe that I have absolutely nothing in common with this man who seemed to have no reverence or respect for his body, and he speaks of how he was changed by cancer, so perhaps that is him before cancer. He truly is a mind over matter person, and I was raised to that, and so it is odd to know that I have been hard on my body too and ignored pain, but I came to Rosen and learned to truly feel, and that is great, except now I feel the drugs going into my body and feel them circulating around, and that is really hard. I felt sad and wanted to cry, but you sign a form that you will be cheerful and so everybody tries, so I knew it was not okay to cry.
I don't know. I suppose I am doing pretty well, considering, and maybe everything is reversed as to how I will feel. I was just so shocked when the oncologist told me I would have no good days or weeks. I had made a lot of plans, planted carrots for rewards, and I will just have to see what comes. There is no way to know.
Anyway, I have medicine to help me sleep tonight, and tomorrow will be a whole new day.
Great love and care to all,
cathy
The guy next to me was having his first time, too, so we talked a little bit about how we like the columns of Paul Krugman and Maureen Dowd, but mostly he slept and I tried to use my imagery and bring in all my positive symbols. That did help, and I felt myself breathing really deeply to protect my heart, so I think everything is okay, and now I better understand it, and I am well. I am well!