I’ve never been one to get wound up about finding a tumor. (I’ve had plenty removed in my time.) I went with the flow, had it removed; always assumed it would be nothing to worry about. Others around me would get excited and up in arms about it, but I was always the cucumber. Why worry until you have to? When I first found out I had cancer, I actually remained quite cool about it. I wasn’t surprised. Until I learned more detail. The
aggressiveness & severity. The dreaded outcome and odds of something this aggressive. THAT surprised me. I really despise that word. Cancer. There are days when I realize I have it and I really really can’t believe it’s happening to me. It’s much like an alternate reality. I think that word should not be associated with me one bit! Not me or anyone around me. Family or friends. It just doesn’t happen to me. Each time I type “that word” I get queasy. I honestly feel like I might blow chunks.
So, in this alternate reality I’m living, that can’t really be my life, a milestone has been achieved. I made it through 6 rounds of TAC chemotherapy and so far I’m still here. I’m not feeling the greatest, but I can honestly say now, I’ve felt worse. With more shots, my CBC came up to a pretty good level, therefore I ventured out to store (with less fear of catching something) with Sarah for school supplies. I was completely wiped out by the time we got home. I had a CT scan yesterday, 4 testes in all, 2
bottles of berry smoothie barium (yum? Not really, but I’ve tasted worse), 3 shots of dye, which I could hear the squirting sounds as it was being injected, then the hot feeling rushed in. Not unbearable, but it wiped me out. I got home, changed clothes and flopped on the bed. I could have slept through the night even though it was only 4:00 when I let my eyes close.
Of course, I’m nervous what the scan may or may not find. It’s a
vicious circle. If they find something, I’ll be totally crushed. If they don’t, I’ll sit and wonder if there really was something there, but it was missed or too small for them to catch, and then by the time another test is done it will
be too late, it will have grown, and I’ll be crushed. If I had a less severe form of canc…((( choke )))… this disease, maybe I’d be thinking a little differently. Maybe I wouldn’t.
Getting close to the 3 week mark of what would normally be another treatment on tap, but being done with them, I’m looking forward to feeling better with each passing day. I may get knocked down a few pegs near the
end of this month when I get the ovary surgery and start radiation. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. My brain is thirsting to go back to
work. Yet, it gets tired and peters out rapidly still. If I were to try to go back today, someone would probably find me staring blankly into space with in 30 minutes and later my face planted in the keyboard inside and hour. I’m not sure what affect radiation is going to have on energy, concentration, and scheduling of my time. That’s the same bridge that is currently under construction.
Can’t cross it till it’s built.