I’ve been a bit under the weather and not able to write; but here I am to check in on how life’s been for me lately.
It’s been a drag.
Which is why I haven’t written–I’m not big on complaining here at this blog. It’s depressing and it doesn’t make me feel strong. But to ignore this part of the journey would be inauthentic, really–it would be passing over the incredibly difficult part of being a cancer patient: the treatments that don’t work. And that’s why I’m going to give you a quick sketch of how things are right now for me.
After I spoke in Boston in October, I went to Hawaii with the blessings and the gifts of dozens of friends from my world who fundraised their backsides off to get me and my family there. We had a great time; scuba diving, helicopter rides, safaris and the like. When I came back, I started new chemotherapy Xeloda (the Taxol chemo I was on had stopped working.) I was due to have 3 rounds (2 weeks on, one week off) and then see how the drug was working. The problem was, I felt like junk every day. I mean don’t-get-out-of-bed, no-interest-in-the-gym, I-can’t-eat kind-of thing. It was the antithesis of who I am: like someone transplanted me right out of myself and threw in I-don’t-even-know who. What character in TV, movies, books never wants to get out of bed? That’s who I was. And I’m afraid to say still am.
It got so bad that I, a cancer fighter, one who knows that you only have a certain amount of chemos to work with before you run out of choices, had to call “uncle” on the Xeloda. It was the worst feeling of my life: literally taking the medical reigns from my oncologist and saying “no more. I can’t handle this.” But on Dec 23, that’s what I did. And the chemo wasn’t showing fabulous results, either–they were “mixed.” So I said, “we’re done here.” I need some semblance of my life back.
But it never really came. I went on a vacation with my family and my brother’s family which was a huge “happy boost” for me, but when I got back home it’s been crapus-status-quo. My family and friends are doing double time to convince me to get out on a walk, take the dog out, go for coffee–at my request, mind you. I need people to get my sad butt out of my home before I become some kind of a hermit in here–getting fearful and woe-is-me. F-that. That’s not how this story’s gonna go….
Now I’m on another chemo–and so far no change. I am not Taxol-great, but I am not Xeloda-sick, either. I’m somewhere in the middle. We will find out in a few weeks whether this new drug is working–and whether I can withstand it–and then go from there.
So gang, that’s Highlights From Cancer Mountain. To all of you who’ve FB’d me and asked if I’m okay, this blog is dedicated to you. Yes, I am fine. I look myself in the mirror all the time and tell myself that, even as some tears fall. Like I tell my kids, you are your own best friends. You will be the ones to take you through the good, the bad and the unfair of life. Don’t ever forget that–I tell myself, now, constantly. You can do this.
And if you can’t, I tell me, I’ll still be there with you through the good and the bad. I got your back, Ann Murray Paige. I got your back.