Home » Uncategorized » Act II ~ A lesson in following the lead.

Act II ~ A lesson in following the lead.

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There’s something to be said for familiarity, and expectations.  Heading into my second appointment for infusion I knew exactly what to expect and what it all would feel like.  Infusion and the neulasta injection the next day have not created any immediate reactions for me.  Once it is in my system I start to feel it working, but no problems with the day of. (I am sure the first experience I had last month was a stomach bug, not a side effect.)

So the second round has gone well for me. That is not to say “easy” (I’ll tell you my comedic parking lot incident in a moment) but all things considered, this round has gone well. The side effects have been expected and I knew what was coming and figured out how to handle it.

Or, maybe what is really happening is that I have accepted that I should not push for control but I can follow the lead.

I can recognize now when I am feeling tired from chemo as opposed to tired from physical work. With the chemo fatigue, there is no putting it off; I need to stop. On those days, I find when I get myself home I need to actually lay down and sleep. I am sure I will sleep standing up if I don’t. My body is not going to let me put it off, and when I did wait too long, it ended up with me falling asleep fully clothed, shoes and all, sleeping for 10 hours.

I know that my sense of taste will come and go. When it is working pretty close to normal I am making sure to go for it and enjoy it! I can only eat small amounts for now, but oh boy the pleasure from a small bowl of blueberries is something I will never ever take for granted. I miss that when it is gone, but I know it is a temporary absence.

So I am learning to pace myself accordingly, whether it be eating, sleeping, working; I’m listening to my body’s response.

Here was my “ah ha” moment when I learned this lesson. During this second week I was at work, feeling queasy, tired, and pretty much having one of those “brain fog” days.   I hadn’t eaten much for a couple of days and thought I needed to eat to boost my energy and clear my head with a good healthy meal. I had brought broiled chicken, potatoes, and green beans from home and over the course of the afternoon I pushed myself to finish it off. It smelled like it was burnt, and tasted like chemicals but I pushed myself to eat it in order to fuel my body.   My body was not thankful and the fog was not lifting and now my stomach was churning.

My biggest fear of working through chemo is that I might throw-up in public. I think we all have odd and unreasonable fears of something or other (some people are afraid of cats… I don’t get it! Fluffy?!) For me it is the embarrassment of puking in public. It has never happened and I wanted to keep it that way. I plotted out my path to the restroom should I need to make a run for it, and carefully focused on every turn my stomach took, taking a deep cleansing breath with each one. Needless to say I didn’t get much work done that afternoon.

Finally the day was over and I began my commute home. It is winter time so I as usual cranked up the heat but it still wasn’t warming me up that night. It did make me sleepy though which was not a smart move on my 45 minute drive home, I was thankful when I made it to my neighborhood. “Ah, minutes to home, and then who cares what happens!” Knowing that ginger ale is good for upset stomachs I stopped in my local grocery store.

Why did I think I could run in for one item? Is there any mom who can actually do that? I got the ginger ale but also needed kitty litter and I was walking right by it. Then of course I noticed frozen veggies on sale and we always need those. It was then I started to get that tingling feeling at the back of my mouth. Quickly I assessed – can I make it to check out and home, or do I need to find the restrooms? I went to check out.   The sweet friendly clerk was chatty and all I could return was monosyllabic responses as I breathed slow and deep. Finally I was out the door, into the cold night air, clicking my key fob to open the trunk, and reciting my mantra “I can do this. Almost done. Almost home.”

I picked up the kitty litter, and the weight of it was the last straw – it sent my stomach into a tailspin which no deep breathing could control, made me double over and throw up right there in the neighborhood grocery store parking lot. “Oh please god I hope nobody saw me, please please please…” as I glanced around. It was wicked cold out, and fortunately I saw no one who could have witnessed my condition as my stomach gave one more wave to purge itself of healthy food. I was disgusted at having violated this lovely little shopping center. Still praying for invisibility, and feeling the need to somehow lessen my offense, I grabbed a spare gallon of water I keep in my trunk, and splashed the puddle I’d created to wash it away (no thought to the black ice I would be creating in its place!)

Comforted by the cloak of darkness, I tossed the empty jug and last grocery bag in the trunk, and wearily turned to push the the shopping cart to its corral. In doing so, my key fob hit the cart handle setting off the panic button resulting in my car alarm beeping and the lights flashing on and off. Frozen in place, in the strobe light of my car, I stared at the slapstick comedy I was in the midst of. If anyone had not seen me before this moment, they were sure to look now.

I looked to the skies and gave an exhausted “really?”   With an “oh F* it” under my breath I laughed, put away the cart, then fell into my car and finally headed home.

I recognized I was trying to control instead of following the lead.

(The next day when I recounted this story to my son, he said “You should have taken that show down to Wal-Mart, Mom; no one would have paid any attention to you there”

We’re a family of smart-asses, and he makes me proud.)

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