My new life has assumed a peculiar rhythm. First of all, my weeks begin on Thursday. Day 1 of each new chemo treatment. And not Thursday at midnight either; Thursday at precisely the moment I step across that line into the DMZ on the 5th floor of Parnassus.
After treatment, I take the shuttle, walk home, eat something quickly before my stomach can catch up to the drugs (it's usually been a good 8 hours since breakfast), and collapse in bed. I'll drag myself out of bed around 10 to swallow pills before crawling back horizontal. It's a similar struggle in the morning. The nausea's the worst at first, but it gradually fades from a primal scream to a dull roar.
I sleep a lot the first 24 hours and don't eat much at all. I force myself to drink as much as I can to flush the drugs out of my system, but it goes down uneasily at times. The first couple of days I'm fatigued, tire easily, and find it hard to concentrate on much - even reading a book or listening to music takes a focused effort. My mind gets restless and my dreams are vivid.
Over the weekend, depending on that week's drugs of choice, I start to recover, some weeks more quickly than others. Side effects come and go - muscle cramps, mouth sores, weird tastes, headaches, always an uneasy digestive system - but they're generally at the nuisance stage and I'm able to catch up on chores and errands. My heart and lungs can't keep up with a hard workout, but I do a lot of walking and bike-riding (the happy consequence of no car). Food still tastes funny, if it tastes like anything at all (I'm becoming an expert in cardboard-and-styrofoam cuisine), and my stomach's not sure it wants any anyway.
By Monday, I'm ready to get back to work. I'm still tired - Monday mornings I don't force myself to get up super early - but putting in a full day at work feels good. It's always a race to keep up with, and stay ahead of, the constant information flow at work - partly because I'm still learning the responsibilities of my job, and mostly because I'm only there three days out of five. It forces me to be ruthlessly efficient with my time and, for the most part, keeps me distracted from a nagging stomach or a sore mouth or an aching body. Except when I'm sitting in a particularly long and boring meeting, which I've never liked to begin with.
Tuesday and Wednesday are a blur. I'm on overdrive, not tired, sleeping little, catching up with emails and phone calls and finances and keeping my mail sorted, setting things up at work for the days I'll be out for chemo, making post-treatment plans, working on projects at the apartment, enjoying the outdoors, going out for live music or a club, maybe even eating a triumphant meal out - triumphant because I can actually (a) taste the food, sort of; and (b) consume it without feeling sick, mostly.
Thursday mornings are the worst, particularly if treatment isn't until the afternoon. I feel as well as I'll get for the week, but it's of small comfort: I don't want to eat too much or I'll feel sick later; it's the middle of the day in the middle of the week, so I can't exactly go celebrate; I can't go out for a hike or go to work or just enjoy feeling good because I don't have all that much time before I have to walk to the shuttle and ride up to Parnassus. I charge my iPod, pack a few books in my bag, put numbing cream on my port, and the week begins anew.
It is a brave new world.
Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm, and harmony. -Thomas Merton
2 comments:
You're a brave woman, V. And you're getting through this with total class.
Thanks for sharing your story with us. I imagine it's not always the first thing you feel like doing.
Have a good Monday, V.
True dat! Sometimes that's what it takes to get me out of bed though :)
And, it gives me something else to think about at the hospital, or when I feel yucky: "How can I write about this...?"
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