a week to feel almost normal

My last chemo treatment was last Thursday. I have been practically bed-ridden since then. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't think my heart would jump out of my chest when I walked a few steps. I feel ... almost normal.

My job has a requirement that after 4 days of absence from work, you automatically are deferred to short-term disability. I now need a doctor's permission to return to work. Which is funny because by the time I could get permission, I'd be back out again because of the effects of my next chemo treatment.

I didn't blog for those days following the treatment because it was difficult enough to hold my head up for extended periods of time or to walk or stand for any length of time.

You know what's a blower? Going from your bed to the bathroom... and breathing heavy while you're sitting on the toilet. Or moving from your bed to the kitchen and back again... and feeling as though your heart is about to leap out of your chest from over exertion.

I am in a bad place mentally. I'm trying to keep myself out of a funk but it grows more difficult every day.

I look a mess. I see it when I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is really low... and small bald spots are starting to appear. I guess I will have to shave this soon. I have no hair on my body below my nose. No underarm hair, no pubic hair, no leg hair. Oh... I do still have hair on my arms... just a little. There are little hairs here and there... and I mean, one or two... no more.

I went to the barbershop to have my hair cut one more time on Monday evening. It was coming out in my hands and I wanted to look presentable -- I thought I was going to work the next day. Nope! I finally told my barber that I have cancer and guess what he told me? He has cancer too.

Ain't that a blip? That news made me even more sad. Every time I hear about someone else with cancer, I get sad. Its bad that I'm going through this... its horrible that so many others are going through this too.

Some months ago, I made a proclamation to myself that I wanted to live to be 100. I am 39 now. Will be 40 on May 1st. 60 more years? How am I going to do that when I can't walk to the mailbox and back? I have too much time to think and not enough energy to do more than that. I was reminded by my boyfriend that I could use this time to work on my unfinished novels. I don't know that I can do that... but I will give it a try.

I have to be honest here... I've been holding back about how sad and upset I am about all of this. I have been trying to make it easy for the people who love me to deal with me, and with this crisis. I do not like being a burden. But ... I am hurting down deep in my soul. And I know that there is nothing that anyone can do for me but me... to change my perspective. My mind aches, my heart aches and my body just doesn't feel right.