Chemo Cycle 2

 

Hey guys! Chemo #2 down! We woke up bright and early on Tuesday March 2 for my second infusion at UC Health Cherry Creek. The day before I had my labs and appointment with my oncologist team, my labs rebounded and looked solid enough to have the second round. My infusion started at 8am; I got a nice sundrenched suite. I, of course, immediately opened the shades as wide as possible to enjoy some warm sunshine and try and get some warmth before the stupid cap froze me. The nurses came in and asked if I wanted the shades down to which I said "Uh, NO!" They understood and said they'd bring me some sunglasses and sunscreen. We got the pre-meds started and the cap cooling much faster this time. I think a combination of knowing what to expect along with the cap not being on quite as tight this time helped make it not so painful and stressful this go around. The sunshine and a stronger Ativan dose also helped. After the pre-cool completed, the nurse brought in the first bag of chemo. The nurse brought in my chemo medications dressed in a full hazmat suit. Uhhhhhhhhhh you're going to put that in me?! She swooped open the curtain to try and make light of her getup but we couldn't help think about why she was wearing that. To protect herself from splashes of what was inside should it leak or break open. But for me--that highly hazardous material is what is going to save my life.  She hooked it up to my IV port and it started to run through the line and into my heart. The terrible and the beautiful. 

I've been thinking a lot about these two ideas that live synonymous in my world and how really, that is the stuff that makes up our lives. No one is exempt from pain. I certainly didn't coin that phrase, my new favorite author and professor (and cancer survivor) Kate Bowler muses much about this idea. Look her up, she uses and develops a beautiful language for suffering amidst hope and joy. The idea is so apparent in my life right now, when I'm laying on the couch feeling like junk but Cooper is smiling at his mama every time he catches my eye. When the chemotherapy is working in just the right dosage so that I still live. When my hair is falling out is a good thing - it's working! My hair is falling out?!  My body is being pushed to it's limit right now. It's not a great feeling waking up every morning feeling like a bus hit me and knowing that while it's temporary, it's also not going to get better for this season of life. It's supposed to do that. I've made my peace with that but it is an odd feeling. As when everyone asks me how I'm feeling, I just reply "one day at a time." I love being a wife and mom and navigating through this season has grown and changed me. Sometimes, I trick myself that what I'm going through isn't that big of a deal. Other people are going through way harder things! And while that is true, I know that this isn't nothing either. One of the songs I've been listening to by Ellie Holcomb, "Find You Here" lyric goes

Here of the middle of the lonely night

You're here in the middle of the deep
Regret, here when the healing hasn't happened yet
Here in the middle of the desert place,
Here in the middle when I cannot see your face
Here in the middle with your outstretched
Arms, You can see my pain and it breaks your heart

And I didn't know I'd find You here, in the middle of my deepest fear
But You were drawing near, You were overwhelming me with peace
So I lift my voice and sing:
You're gonna carry me through everything
And You were drawing near, You're overwhelming all my fears with peace

I love that. 

This round hit me much harder much quicker in regards to my energy and fatigue levels. It was hard to have enough energy to do normal things some days. I cope by doing things when I have the urge. I get up and do whatever it is when I can, then rest. I've gone for a walks when possible. My eyesight changes with each infusion; apparently the chemo discharges from your eyes as well so I can't see. I look like an old lady that needs readers. (sorry old ladies with readers). Reading is tough, even seeing the TV is tough which is very annoying. Trying to watch a tennis match was impossible, where's the ball?!?! Michael refuses to watch any more tennis with me--"what's happening now?!" My appetite is still coming and going but I'm doing ok eating when I can. Night sweats, oh the night sweats. I wake up just drenched, I assume just chemo messing with my body. It's funny at my dr appointments when they go through asking me yes or no to my current side effects because they aren't asking so that we can make them go away and resolve my problems;  side effects are intended. So they say, ok. I'm so sorry, that sounds terrible. And then we forge ahead. It's not bad and I'm not complaining, it just is what it is. 

So in short, it's all going, I'm doing and we're getting there. 

Tata's for now, 

xoxoxoxo, 

Tara