I’m scheduled to have my next Chemo treatment today. Yuck.
Several of you have asked me some questions. I’ve heard a few of the same questions many times. So, without further ado, here are the answers to some of my most frequently asked questions:
How old am I? I’m 34. I’ll turn 35 on July 7, so there’s still time to get a gift. 😉
Will my hair fall out? Yes, it will! It will probably start falling out this week. My treatment today will really get it going.
Will I shave my head? Yes. I just need to figure out where to go. Things I never thought to think about.
Does my skin hurt? So far, only when I’m in the sun for more than a few minutes.
How are my kids doing? Great! They are getting some quality time in with their Gram & Pop-Pop and Aunt Heather. They are loving all of the play dates. And the gifts—you guys are awesome. I would never have thought of sending gifts to the children of someone who is sick, but that is very kind and very generous.
We have moments when it is hard. Really hard. It’s hard having them gone so much during my chemo weeks. It’s really hard not holding them (Haven and the port issues). But this is just a season. We will get through it.
What was my due date? November 30, 2016. That will be a difficult day.
Am I still working? Trying. I want to. It’s really hard having chemo every other week. I’m very tired and used to napping. My brain is already mush. Probably from the stress, lack of sleep, emotions, shock, etc.
I’ve been working at the same company for 15+ years, and it’s crazy how my brain has just locked out the simplest tasks I have been doing for years.
Am I sleeping? Not well. I’m usually up between 2–4 a.m. daily.
Am I angry at God? Nope. God did not give me cancer. God did not kill my baby.
Do I have my chemo at the hospital? No, I receive treatment at my doctor’s office. I’ve thought about going across the street for some chicken salad for lunch before, just not when I’m right there. When it’s time to eat I don’t really think about the hospital as a menu choice. Weird.
When does chemo “hit” me? I don’t know how to answer that. When I leave the doctor’s office, my joints hurt and ache right away. They give you a lot of fluids while you’re sitting there and it feels like they just sit in your joints. The entire experience is like having the flu, but many times worse. My treatment was given to me on a Tuesday and I felt almost completely back to normal by Sunday. I am praying it’s the same if not better this time around.
Do I like talking about my cancer? I don’t think I would use the word like. I feel like so many people hear about someone diagnosed with cancer and the treatment they undergo, but it is so, so much more than that. There is so much more emotion. So much physical pain and discomfort. Cancer is crazy. Treatment, I feel like, is so much more crazy. And miscarriages, I don’t even know what to say about that. Honestly, I don’t think I have processed through that yet. I don’t feel like I have had time or mental space to do so.
Also, I’m an introvert. A big time introvert. I become so exhausted after talking with more than three people within a 60-minute time period. My husband—big surprise—is an extrovert. He becomes more and more alive with the more people he talks to. We’ve known this about ourselves, but it has become more and more evident in the last few months. Having said that, please continue to feel free to come up to me and say something. I just want you to know how I’m wired, so if I just say thank you over and over and that’s it, you know why.
It is so true that when it comes to bad news, it is so important to say something, say anything. Even when you don’t know what to say, you should say something when you feel led to. So if you see me, and you’re debating whether or not to say something to me, go for it! I’ve received a handfull of messages from people who have seen me and they didn’t say anything, and they wish they would have. So this is your permission slip. Then I’ll go home and talk a long nap to recoup.
Thank you again.