It seems ironic that when I am so close to the finish line my strength and determination have weakened, just like my body. This last chemo has done a number on me for sure. Each chemo, with all the issues I’ve had, has been worse than the one before so it should have been no surprise that this last one was going to test me beyond my endurance. Maybe I’m just tired of fighting to stay strong, to stay positive, to keep hope in my heart. But, when you feel so horrible that living is like slogging through a quicksand mine field with a hundred pound back pack on your back, it saps your desire to fight, even though you know you WILL feel better, eventually. But, eventually is not now, I want to feel well now. I cannot even begin to describe how I felt yesterday, but, I’ll try. The weekend after I finish taking prednisone is always awful. Each part of my body feels as if its weighted down with thousand pound weights. My head and brain are the heaviest, I cannot seem to think straight and I have no desire to think about anything. The weight of my head makes it difficult to keep it from listing on my shoulders when I stand up. The only thing I can do is lie down. It’s either lie down or fall down – that’s my choice.
The fluid is pouring out of my body so I must gather enough strength to get up to go to the bathroom. I drag myself back and forth. I’m stubborn so every now and then on my bathroom walk, I force myself to walk out to the patio and sit there for a few minutes, hoping to cheer myself up. I can’t sit for long and instead of cheering me it depresses me – I want to walk around my yard! Back to the sofa where nothing interests me whatsoever. Everything on TV seems so silly and shallow, or nasty, or hate-filled, or just a waste of time to even contemplate. Books take brain power in order to keep up with the story line – so reading frustrates me. Though I do try to read – but nothing too heavy. I have a few cancer books and articles people have given me, and I’m sure they are filled with great information but I cannot even coerce myself into opening the first page of those books. Maybe I’m not ready yet? I don’t know when I will be.
Last night, as on many nights when I’m in the shower, feeling drained and depleted, weeping in despair, I spoke to my God as I let the hot water pour over me, praying for relief of my bodily ills, praying for courage, strength, and a deeper faith that cannot be shaken by the physical, mental, and emotional challenges I’m experiencing. God is with me during those times, I sense His presence and His love for me, even when He doesn’t seem to be communicating to me. And, that is enough, it’s enough. It’s all I have to hold onto that gives me strength to carry on when I just want to lie down and never get up again.
These are the real moments of the cancer journey. They can’t be sugarcoated or glossed over. They come and they go. They come when I’m weak and tired or sad and lonely, or irritable or mad. When you feel bad or your emotions are twisted up in knots, the world seems gray, as does everything and everyone in it.
Trying to think positive is sometimes elusive. There is so much that is unknown about my future. There are no guarantees in life and certainly not with this disease. Taking it one day at a time is the only way to survive it. When I get too far ahead of myself, fear and worry set in.
It’s been a downer week for me and I’m not going to put a happy face on it. Sometimes, you just have to admit what IS.
But, I won’t be down for long I hope. Soon as I start feeling better and begin getting out and about more, all will be well. I hope, I pray, I cling to Jesus, I surrender to His holy will.