That's what time it says on the cable clock. I fell asleep at 11:30, and woke up at 12:20. Nausea will do that. Nausea has become my alarm clock, and it's not as precise or consistent as, say, a rooster. So here I sit, after watching Bill Maher and a cable movie, after about eight rounds of Sudoku on my Kindle, finally posting an update. And lucky you, it's about nausea.
How odd is it that this chemo I'm taking does not cause nausea, but the cancer I have does. One point for cancer. I should keep a tally. Chemo: why I don't get mosquito bites this summer. Cancer: why I've lost 6 pounds and can't seem to get them back. Chemo, cancer -- one poisons me, one kills me. A dichotomy, at last (I've always wanted to use that word in this blog).
I did not have chemo last Wednesday, so I assumed I'd feel pretty good by now. So stupid to have forgotten that cancer doesn't feel wonderful, either. It's 3:14 am, but Wawa and CVS are open if I must have ginger ale. Ken fell asleep on the sofa, so I'd have to sneak past him. He tries to do everything for me, and I do not want him to do this. I can make it to CVS and let the poor guy sleep.
Man, I have big plans for tomorrow, too: I need to get to the Verizon store, and to Whole Foods. Allison's safely ensconced in North Carolina and Jonah will be at daycamp. Lunch at Whole Foods is part of the agenda with Jason, who loves their pizza. Will we make it to Whole Foods? Must cancer muscle its way into every plan I make for the rest of my life? I'm not being dramatic.
* I wonder: Will I be able to teach first grade this fall? I have a contract to teach first grade until Thanksgiving, but at this point I'd give it a 30% chance of happening. First, the principal has to allow me a half day off most Wednesdays for chemo. Second, I have to be able to regularly summon the energy not only to get out of bed, but to TEACH FIRST GRADE. Third, my immune system has to remain strong enough for my oncologist to clear it.
* I wonder: Will we make it onto our planned and paid for cruise in December? Can it revolve around a chemo treatment? Will I go parasailing with a bald head? Will I choose to be photographed for formal night? Will I ever get out of the cabin, or have the energy to explore the ship? Which will be winning in December: chemo or cancer?
Nausea. It's not terrible at the moment. I bet I could sleep. My eyes are on the prize: the Verizon store, and Whole Foods with Jason.
Half-marathon for breast cancer with Jill in Jacksonville
Renee and I on vacation in Florida
My family :)
Ken, Jason, Lori, Jill, me, Jonah, Allison, Esther. Civia got cut off, and her mom took the picture!
My "new hair"
This is what it looks like when you get chemo. Exciting stuff.
Purple Mama on Chemo Eve, 3/5/09
Heading to Target, 2/2/09
Friday, January 23
About Me
- Michelle Friedman
- I'm a mom of 3 terrific kids, wife of an occasional saint. I AM a breast cancer survivor.
7 comments:
Heart breaking...but admiring your fortitude.....you can do this!! All good thoughts and prayers to you and your family! Kush
Michelle, your journey is difficult and seems dark some days, but your love of life, family and God will get you through. You will be even stronger then before!!!!
Michelle, your writing is as beautiful as you are. I like your "eye on the "prize" saying. That's a keeper. You have many prizes ahead to keep your eyes on. One day at a time...one step forward. Thinking of you and sending huge hugs. ~~~~~Beth P xoxoxo
Michelle....No matter how heart breaking what you write is to me, your writing is spectacular! What a gift you have. In fact, you have many gifts. The fact that you can express your feelings the way you do, is in so many ways healing you each time you write. It's therapy, wonderful therapy. Not ugly, horrible chemo"therapy". You should keep a tally on each time you write. I bet YOU will win. Not chemo, not cancer.....YOU! I hope you enjoy your day today with Jason at Whole Foods! Love you so much!
Michelle I had 3 different chemos and they all made me nauseous despite the docs swearing that two of them did "absolutely nothing". I was talking to one of my residents and told him that I think all oncologists should be required to have chemo once-he thought it was a little extreme but I think he got my meaning.
I don't always know what to say, so I usually end up saying nothing. And, when I do speak, more often than not, it’s with my foot in my mouth. However, here goes...
Please remember, like they say in that commercial, there’s no expiration date stamped on your forehead. I was very happy, but not surprised, by the good news about the chemo. I have told you before that you are the strongest person I have ever met and I am sure that you can beat this!
Medicines can only go so far – the rest depends on you and your mental strength and fortitude and you are a winner in both categories. On top of that, think of how many friends you have, all praying for you – you do not have to be religious to know that such a positive environment must help.
So, have a hug with Jonah, a giggle with Allison, a laugh with Jason and a good long kiss with Ken and know that there will be many, many more to come.
There are no words to express the love that I feel for you.
(I'd like to think that you got your writing ability from me, except that you are so much better that it almost makes me want to quit writing.)
What a hard journey you're on. I'm so mad that cancer has invaded the life of such a good sweet person...again. Keep trudging forward and kick that cancer right back out of your life for good!
Post a Comment