I’m starting to see a definite
link between Chemo and childbirth. What?
you say! Have the drugs gone directly to
her brain this time? Probably. But I think I’ve found a very supportable theory. Remember how I preach about keeping a journal
during your treatments? This way you can
refer back and see if you’ve had that reaction before; how you treated certain
side effects and what, if anything, was successful; keeping track of when you
got what type of pain and about how long before you were back to “normal.”
Might as well handle that issue
right now – you will never be “normal” again.
You’ll probably be better than “normal,” stronger than “normal,” tougher
than “normal,” more caring than “normal,” and more resilient than “normal.” Your faith will never be “normal”
again. You will never look at your
family or friends the same way again. Each
day that you’re able to open your eyes and take a breath will be incredibly
better than “normal.” Your life has
changed forever. But back to that
journal!
Okay, each time I’m approaching a
return to treatments, I re-read the journal.
It gives me a feeling that I’ve developed some sort of control, and you
all know how I feel about control. “Tuesday,
not too bad but back pain came back.” “Friday,
only a short walk today, but still beautiful.”
“Sunday, probably shouldn’t have taken that Advil for the knee pain with
a glass of wine – both came up, but I was able to eat dinner later. It’s all good!” “Monday, slept great – once the drug got out
of my system.”
Having gone through a similar
week this time, it should have read: “Tuesday, OH cr#%p that hurts!” “Friday,
upper back pain, shortness of breath, and calf cramps. Get out of my way you seagull, I’m trying to
make it to the ramp.” “Sunday, NO ADVIL,
I’d rather deal with the pain. NSAIDS
are supposed to help with the Neulasta pain.
Yeah, right! To whomever
conducted that study – it only works if it stays down. And by the way, doesn’t matter a wit about
the wine. Those pills don’t stay down
with or without alcohol.” That does
pass. Eventually I begin tolerating
NSAIDS again – just not when I need them most – after the Neulasta shot. “Monday, finally got an hour or two of sleep
after spending the night in my new tiled bedroom, the one with the throne, with
a trash can on my lap.”
That sounds horrible. Well, actually, it was – BUT, it’s only a few
days. Then it really does go away. Until the next time. All week, I found myself saying, “Oh cr#%p, I
forgot about this part – or “Wow, I forgot how that can hurt.”
Okay, that brings me to the
childbirth issue. Anyone out there who
has ever given birth knows that if we remembered exactly how labor felt – with great
clarity and honesty – NO ONE would ever have a second child. So, for the sake of the continuity of mankind,
no journaling, no scales, no gruesome details in writing. Not that I really think there’s much chance
of that. Once that little bundle is
placed in your arms, all thoughts of pain go away (that comes back when they’re
teenagers). New Moms are much too busy
to write anything down. But chemo
patients need to. You really do need to
know what’s coming so you can deal with it.
It finally dawned on me that what
was necessary was clearer, longer, and more accurate entries. Use of the 0-10 scale would be useful. I know you’ve all heard it; “How is your pain
right now on a scale of 0-10, 0 being none and 10 being the worst you’ve ever
had.” It would make everything much
clearer. “Tuesday, Oh cr#%p, that was a
12 – reduced later in the day to an 8. Heating pad helped.” “Friday, this walk started out as a 10 on the
enjoyable scale but has slid its way down to a minus 4. Get out of my way bird.” You get the idea. Clarity and detail are what your journal
needs – not quick quips.
I’m not trying to scare anyone,
especially me, but honesty really is better.
Most of that stuff really will come back, to varying degrees, and
depending on whether you found a coping mechanism for it the last time. My new journal is a little grittier, filled
with numbers on a scale, and – let’s face it- honest! Honesty really is the best policy and
preparedness the best management strategy. But today is better, and each day for the next 2 weeks will get better. And, yes, then I'll start over again. I need to remind myself often that there is a long-term purpose to this - remission. A nice long remission will help me forget - see, like childbirth!
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