"..that is not what I do
I ain't no damsel in distress
and I don't need to be rescued
so put me down punk
maybe you'd prefer a maiden fair-
isn't there a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere?"
In Gleek speak, I guess you could say this song is one of my personal Anthems. Hubby calls this my 'angry bitch music'. I think it's pretty fitting for what I'm going through right now.
This has been a rough week. I expected that chemo would be hard, physically. I also know, logically, that I will not feel this crappy forever. I thought that I was mentally prepared to face this ordeal. I didn't fully realize that in addition to killing off the cells in my body; in my blood and bone marrow, in my hair, my skin, my mouth, my throat, my stomach; that this chemo would suck the strength and hope out of my spirit. I am feeling defeated.
This is the part I did not want to face. As my body grows weaker, so does my resolve. Some days I feel like I am not strong enough to make it through another week feeling this way, let alone 4-1/2 more months...and that is just the beginning of it. I still have another year of IV treatments after with a biologic drug that will mess up other parts of me, then another 5 years of hormone therapy. I haven't even looked at what to expect with those.
I read through my 'chemotherapy and you' manual again yesterday, read about all the crap that chemo does to your body. I have been concentrating on the physical aspects of this treatment - most people can relate to feeling physically crappy - and ignoring the mental. It's all just a state of mind. Power of the positive. psyche yourself out. om.
Yesterday I gave up. I can't do this on strength of resolve alone. I start on anti-depressant medication today - again. One more chemical to help my body do something it can't do on it's own. This is the part that no one wants to talk about, but nevertheless is yet another piece of this monster that I am dealing with.
Physical illness is one thing; acceptable, safe. Mental illness is completely different. People don't want to talk about that. *I* don't want to talk about it. I can put up a pretty good front. I hoped that this experience was the catalyst I needed to get my brain out of the dumps and kick it to the curb. I went off my anti-depression meds AFTER I was diagnosed with cancer. And up to this point, I was feeling pretty good about it. Confident that I could handle anything this bitch could throw at me. I knew she fights dirty, but didn't fully comprehend just how low she goes- way, waaaay back to the very back of the closet. I think I gave away my hope stone too soon. I had hoped I didn't need it. ha...ha..... ha. Luckily, I have some new little pink ones in a bottle waiting upstairs for me.
Not wanting to leave this post on a completely low note, I want to share some coolness in the midst of this giant pool of suck - the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure is happening this weekend. I have a team of 27 people so far that are showing up on my behalf. I am shocked and awed by this. Our team has raised over $2100 so far- to contribute to the overall W. MI event goal of $500K.
The Friday before my last chemo session, my girl K, from work, called me up with some unexpected news. A manager at my company had heard about me and asked if the running team there could join my team for the race. One of the presidents contributed money for pink company T-shirts, which they are selling to raise more money to donate in my name. People I don't know, showing up on my behalf to raise money for the Cure. Amazing. Inspiring. I'm looking forward to it. hmmmm....... I guess there is a little hope in that bottom drawer of that old dresser in the back of the attic after all.
I don't have my new pink Komen shoes yet. Probably won't have them in time for the weekend. But I do have some spiffy new laces for my old pair to get me through, compliments of my girl J, from Shelby Twnship, who sent them to me on her Aunt's (a BC survivor) behalf. Thanks to all the people out there who rooting for me right now.