Made It to Five, Still Alive
Treatment numero cinco. That means number five in Spanish.
This one hit me hard. Granite mountain to the side of the face hard.
Part of that probably has to do with the fact that I delayed treatment by a week so that I could be more "present" (read, conscious) at my son's wedding. During that week, I was convinced I didn't feel any better. Then I went in for the chemo.
I could not have been more wrong.
That week, looking back, was near normalcy. A comparative lack of nausea and pain.
Bliss.
My head feels like it's ten times its normal size. My eyeballs are dry and red and feel swollen in their sockets. My neck hurts anytime I move. My skin prickles and itches and burns and peels off. I get random sharp pains at random places in my body. I'm starving but don't want to eat. I'm exhausted but can't sleep.
My mouth hurts. There is a taste of rancid metal in my mouth. "How does rancid metal taste?" one might ask. Remember that Tupperware container of leftovers you forgot about and then found months later and could no longer identify? It's that, layered with oxidized copper and iron.
In short, I'm physically miserable almost 24/7.
And, with all of that, it feels tangibly different knowing that Todd is dying. All of the side effects that come along with chemo are so much easier to take when you know for a fact that it's helping. The treatments are working. I'm beating cancer.
That's a big deal.
I feel a near-constant sense of guilt because I do so little (make that nothing) to help my wife. She is incredible. She works as a full-time nurse in high-risk OB. She's picked up all of my slack. And, she cares for me.
She makes me bone broth, so that I have protein and collagen. She cleans up all the messes I make. She stays on top of the grocery shopping. She does all of this, and then she holds me and tells me how much she loves me.
I don't know how to take in the amount of love she gives me. I'm overwhelmed.
On top of that, when I tell her how bad I feel about how little I'm doing, she gets almost angry and says, "You're not doing nothing! You're fighting cancer!" What can I say?
I am not worthy.
But even though I know how true that statement is, I'm still going to take it.
My wife's love is going to cure my cancer, y'all.
Oh, and here were my socks this time:
______________
Next up: all the fun stuff that happens when someone accesses your port poorly.
Next post.
 |
| At least I've still got my beard, right? |
Part of that probably has to do with the fact that I delayed treatment by a week so that I could be more "present" (read, conscious) at my son's wedding. During that week, I was convinced I didn't feel any better. Then I went in for the chemo.
I could not have been more wrong.
That week, looking back, was near normalcy. A comparative lack of nausea and pain.
Bliss.
My head feels like it's ten times its normal size. My eyeballs are dry and red and feel swollen in their sockets. My neck hurts anytime I move. My skin prickles and itches and burns and peels off. I get random sharp pains at random places in my body. I'm starving but don't want to eat. I'm exhausted but can't sleep.
My mouth hurts. There is a taste of rancid metal in my mouth. "How does rancid metal taste?" one might ask. Remember that Tupperware container of leftovers you forgot about and then found months later and could no longer identify? It's that, layered with oxidized copper and iron.
In short, I'm physically miserable almost 24/7.
And, with all of that, it feels tangibly different knowing that Todd is dying. All of the side effects that come along with chemo are so much easier to take when you know for a fact that it's helping. The treatments are working. I'm beating cancer.
That's a big deal.
I feel a near-constant sense of guilt because I do so little (make that nothing) to help my wife. She is incredible. She works as a full-time nurse in high-risk OB. She's picked up all of my slack. And, she cares for me.
She makes me bone broth, so that I have protein and collagen. She cleans up all the messes I make. She stays on top of the grocery shopping. She does all of this, and then she holds me and tells me how much she loves me.
I don't know how to take in the amount of love she gives me. I'm overwhelmed.
On top of that, when I tell her how bad I feel about how little I'm doing, she gets almost angry and says, "You're not doing nothing! You're fighting cancer!" What can I say?
I am not worthy.
But even though I know how true that statement is, I'm still going to take it.
My wife's love is going to cure my cancer, y'all.
Oh, and here were my socks this time:
 |
| Be jealous. |
Next up: all the fun stuff that happens when someone accesses your port poorly.
Next post.
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