Yesterday I did radiation and saw the nurse and doctor like every Monday. I was doing pretty well and just mentioned my fatigue. They both said there's nothing to really do about that, and I knew it, I just wanted to mention it. However, by the time I got home that same day, I was shot. I felt like I had the flu. My body was so weak and tired. My left breast felt swollen and hurt so badly whenever I'd bend over. I couldn't stop shaking. When I took my pill the glass was uncontrollable.
Eric had to work that night, and that meant I had to give Julia a bath and put her to bed. Luckily, she cooperated with me, and any time she would goof off I'd say, "Julia, please help me. Mommy doesn't feel good." Then she'd comply. I ended up going to bed at 8:30 and got a record 9 hours of sleep. Sleeping was uncomfortable though, because I couldn't lay on my left side, and any time I'd turn over, any weight I put on it hurt.
This morning I was scheduled to report to the hospital at 7:30 for an MRI. 3 weeks ago, I was experiencing shooting pains in my right breast. They were very reminiscent of the pains I had prior to finding the lump, and I also thought it was odd that it was my right breast, when we've been radiating the left. I told Dr. U's nurse, and she said to see if it goes away after a few days. It didn't, it got worse and constant. So I called the next day and told them I wanted to come in. Dr. U said he didn't think it was anything, and that it was in my head, but that he knew that answer wouldn't suffice for me, so he ordered an MRI.
So here I am, 3 weeks later, trying to get it checked out. I scheduled it for the earliest appointment so I could get right back to work. Seeing as though this is my third MRI in 2 years, I was pretty used to the drill. I felt bad for the nurse explaining to me what to do because I think my face said something like, "Yeah, yeah, I got it." I changed into the scrubs and filled out their paperwork.
At this point, any paperwork takes a while. I have to list all my surgeries (when and where?), medications, history of cancer, family history of cancer, if I've had chemo (when was last treatment?), if I've had radiation (when was last treatment?), and on and on. My favorite question though was: Do you have implants? If yes, what is the make and model? I thought, "What, like a car?" I imagined a '55 Chevy Bel-Air since that's my favorite classic car.
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| http://www.onallcylinders.com/2012/09/09/reborn-jeff-and-trish-melnichenkos-1957-chevy-bel-air/ |
So they call me back, and they tell me to wait a bit because the contrast machine was broken and they were trying to fix it. Well, after 15 minutes of them trying, they couldn't get it to work and said I'd have to come back. So they told me to come back at 2:00. It was 8:15 at this point, so I walked over to the Cancer Center to see if they could fit me in for radiation.
I was able to get in, and they did my treatment pretty quickly. But I told the techs I felt like my left breast was swollen. She said she'd look at my set up and see if anything changed, but it hadn't. She also took pictures to compare to the first week and she said those were also the same. "Oook..." I thought. Who can deny that then? I told her about my shaking and my trouble with movement and she said I could talk to the nurse.
When the nurse walked in and I started to talk, I just started bawling. I told her what was going on and that I just wanted to know if it was normal or not, and if I just need to suck it up or if something wasn't right. She did say that there could be some swelling and to take ibuprofen to take the edge off, and since it's anti-inflammatory, it could help with the swelling. She told me I was doing great, that my skin looked really good, and if I can get to Friday then next week is just the boost. She said, "I know you've been through a lot, and you're very strong. Cancer isn't for sissies." She was very sweet and very motherly, which made me cry harder.
I kept crying as I changed, and then I got to the car and just wept. Even when I got to work, I was pretty candid about how I was feeling and shed a few tears even there.
The afternoon rolled around and it was time to go back to the hospital for the MRI. I arrived and waited for 30 min. Then I went to the back, changed into scrubs again, and waited another 45 minutes. When they finally took me back, I told them I have bad veins and it's hard to find a good one sometimes. That fact was confirmed when it took 45 minutes, 3 attempts, and a vein finder, and they still couldn't get the IV in. As I was laying on the table, I had a few tears trickle down my face because I was just so frustrated. They told me I'd have to reschedule and tell them I have hard veins to find, and that they'd schedule me with the IV team next time.
I changed as fast as I could (again) and walked briskly to my car and wept (again).
I'm tired. Physically and mentally. I'm tired of being a pin cushion. I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being limited. I'm tired of worrying. I'm tired of having hard conversations with Julia. I'm tired of feeling like I'm missing out.
I want peace. I want health. I want to live my life and not worry and plan my life around treatments.
I'm so close to the end. Only a week and a half left of radiation. But for some reason, I feel like I'm running out of steam right before the finish line. I have no choice though. I can't say, "Stop, I'm done." I have to follow through. And as tired and as drained as I am, I have to keep pushing. I know I won't be 100% on that last day, and it will take a few weeks before I fully recuperate. But just knowing that I'm done with active treatment will be liberating.
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| https://www.theodysseyonline.com/life-ultimate-cross-country-race |
In the meantime, I'll continue to do things that feed my soul, and surround myself with good people. My friend Jenny met me for dinner and ice cream afterwards, and we took advantage of the beautiful weather and walked around downtown Naperville. It was hugely needed after a long, emotionally raw day. I'm so grateful for those that will help carry me to the finish line.
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