It still almost doesn’t feel real. Here I am, a week and a half after my first chemo treatment and it’s still hard to believe that I have to deal with this shit again.
Last week was probably a lot harder than it needed to be, given that it was Christmas. I really wanted to have a normal Christmas, especially as it was Miles’s first Christmas, but also because I love this holiday and it brings me so much joy. It was still a lovely few days, but extra tiring from all the hubbub. Still got to spend it with family and friends, so it was worth it, but we’ll wait to see if round 2 brings the same about the same level of tiredness.
Because oh man I was definitely tired. And had a lot of brain fuzz those first few days. There was even an instance where the brain fuzz was so bad that I was trying to change a diaper and it was all I could do to focus on how to do it. I got through it, but I ended up breaking down crying because it was so tough for me to concentrate on what the next steps were.
My mouth has been on fire too. It lasted about a week, but now it’s broken out into mouth sores. My stomach felt like acid (though while taking the dexamethasone it was like my body could feel it and yet it was numbed?) and I had acidic/spicy pee and poops. I had a fair bit of back pain, too, to the point that I couldn’t lift the baby which made me extra sad.
Yesterday was the first day that I actually felt mostly human, apart from the mouth sores. Though I’ve had diarrhea yesterday and today. And today I have a headache (though I might not have had enough fluids yesterday).
My heart is still trying to wrap itself around the fact that my time on this planet is now short. I know in my heart that I’m going to fight this the best I can, and that I have accepted that this is what it is, but it’s hard to not sit in those moments. We spent the weekend with our best friends, and the kiddos had kiddo moments. I kept joking that “this is what we have to look forward to” in regards to Miles, but then my brain would add “if I live that long”. I know that as soon as we’re born everybody has a timer–nobody escapes death–but to have it so evident and obvious is so difficult to process. To know that yours is significantly shorter than the average person’s, that you might not get to experience those milestones with your kid weighs heavy. Then I have the added guilt that I want to be present and enjoy each day, but it’s exceptionally hard when you’re feeling like garbage.
Deep breaths. One day at a time.