Rant

April 29, 2009

My upbeat, positive-sounding update is the post below this one. This blog is for everyone who thinks I am inspiring, strong and handling this well.

Some nights I don’t sleep. Like tonight. I slept from 10 p.m. until midnight and I’ve been tossing and turning ever since. It is now 3 a.m. And I am going to my 5:45 a.m. spin class if it kills me. It probably won’t kill me, but I won’t be able to finish it and then I’ll be cranky all day because of it.

I take 13 vitamin pills a day in hopes of staying healthy through all this and fending off a recurrence once my treatment is through. In the morning I take a multi-vitamin, vitamin D, a digestive enzyme and a fish oil capsule. I also mix a teaspoon of glutamine into a glass of water and drink it. At lunch I take another digestive enzyme, another fish oil and a CoQ10 pill for my immune system. At dinner it’s another multi-vitamin, another fish oil, another digestive enzyme and more glutamine. Before bed I take two calcium/magnesium capsules and a blood thinner. I rarely make it through the day without forgetting to take at least one group of pills.

Every week or so I read something or visit with a doctor who tells me “studies show” that this, that, or something else has been proven to keep my type of tumor from coming back. So I cut out sugar. And caffeine. And alcohol. I’ve eliminated practically every treat I love so I can keep my fat intake to 32 grams a day. And now I am anemic, so I feel compelled to add meat back into my diet. But then my fat grams will exceed the 32-grams-a-day limit. So I consider iron-rich spinach. But the Vitamin K in spinach tends to thin the blood, which could interact with the effectiveness of the blood thinner I take. As a result, I am constantly overwhelmed and feel like I am eating something wrong.

The soft tissue in my body is irritated from the chemo. Scabs in my nose bleed every morning when I blow it. I’ve had a sore throat for four weeks. I’ll spare you the details of my issues with soft tissue in other areas. I have a rash on my face and my eyes sting for several days after the infusion.

I feel dreadfully ugly much of the time. I’m completely bald and wear a wig every day, except at the gym, when I wear a scarf covered by a cap. And I feel like everyone – or no one – is staring at me. My wig is starting to look dingy and frumpy. I’ve lost a good deal of muscle tone and feel fat. I have an ugly red scar where my breast used to be. I used to feel pretty but I don’t anymore.

I never used to read the obituaries, but I do now. I scan them to find the photos of women who look my age. I read until I find out why they died. Nine times out of ten, it says “breast cancer.”

I’m still pissed we missed our wedding in Hawaii. We not only missed out on two weeks of sun and relaxation, but also a once-in-a-lifetime chance to gather with our families and closest friends in paradise. I’m so angry about this, but have nowhere to place my anger.

When I think about how much longer I have to be in treatment, I feel deflated. I’m still counting up, not down.

Even though the initial panic of having cancer has subsided, it’s always there. It is never far from my mind. Thinking about it is so very. Very. Very. Exhausting.

So there’s the real story. Inspiring? I think not. Normal? Probably. As bad as it sounds? Not really – I just feel the need to vent when I don’t get enough sleep.