No one talks about what happens during chemotherapy aside from the hair loss and nausea. Maybe the weakness--just not in depth.
I pushed away a lot of people who cared about me because I was either too weak to deal with anyone being around and/or because I had fallen so deep into a dark place that I didn't have enough of me left to care about what was happening around me. I wish I had learned earlier that I would lose many people I now wish I hadn't. I was selfish and sick and still believe there's no excuse for it. I didn't surround myself with all the right people. If you're reading this, I'm sure you know who you are, I'm so, so sorry from the very bottom of my heart. I will always love and appreciate you more than you know.
Now of course, along with all the emotional turmoil came the physical limitations, set backs, and side effects.
No one told me that I would be so weak that I couldn't stand up for ten minutes at a time or hold a notebook that weighs less than a pound without shaking and feeling faint. I still have trouble standing up for long periods of time and I do still get worn out pretty easily.
No one told me that I would lose the ability to taste my food making eating just another thing I had to do to get through the day. Do you know how utterly frustrating it is to bite into a grilled cheese sandwich and have it NOT taste like the cheesy goodness you know all too well?
No one told me that eventually I would get so sick that doctors would be afraid to let me eat anything that came from the ground for fear of me getting e.coli or something worse. Salads, fruits, vegetables--all of these were out of the question. I never thought I'd say I missed eating salad. I had to get neupogen shots (they would help my body make white blood cells / prevent infection) and they hurt so much that I would sit there literally saying OUCH WOW THAT HURTS WOW out loud until the nurse was done. I was a 20 year old baby and no one likes shots but I'm not exaggerating when I say that a neupogen shot hurts like absolute hell.
No one told me I would start to lose the feeling in my fingers then my hands and slowly my feet because of the chemicals from the chemotherapy. Nobody told me that was really bad either so I let it go on until I almost lost the feeling in my hands forever. They told me "the feeling might come back in a few months if it does at all." My handwriting looked like absolute shit for a while because I couldn't even get a good enough grip on a pencil to write the way I wanted to. I was supposed to return to school in the fall with seven year old handwriting. Fuck.
There were times where my friends would visit me but after sitting up IN BED for fifteen minutes (Yes, you read that correctly. A whopping 15 minutes) I would be so worn out that I had to ask them to leave. Can you imagine having to do that?
Lastly, nobody told me that there would be a pain so indescribable that I would feel completely helpless. MY BONES HURT. Everything just hurt. Massages barely helped but I sat through a few of them even for a moment of relief. I was desperate to find something to make me feel like I didn't just want to give up and die so it would all go away and I knew that there were so many people going through so much worse than I was.
I sit here thinking that if my cancer comes back or if I have to deal with another one because of the radiation treatment I got (there are risks now for me such as thyroid cancer, lung cancer, breast cancer...) or just because breathing air, living your life, or eating McDonald's french fries (I will never stop. Their fries are gold.) gives you cancer that I will not be able to sit through more intensive treatment and that is a scary thought. There were times where I would find myself crying into a friend's shoulder saying "I can't do this anymore!!! I don't want to do this anymore!!!" but knew that there was only so much left to go and at least I wasn't given an amount of days I had left to live.
There will be good days, bad days, okay days, terrible days, and days you just want to die. We live for the good days and okay days and days that you get the good news and days like today where all I have to worry about is this stupid cold I have. Today, I have hope, my hair, the feeling back in my fingers, all my tastebuds in tact (and FUCK YEAH did I enjoy the chocolate chip cookie I just stuffed in my face), and the only reason I hurt is because I slept in a weird position and my cat bit my finger, and I can hold my entire backpack without shaking, and I am STABLE.
I am slowly but surely getting up.
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