anxiety 

They say that if you have a hard time during the first phase of the AC-T treatment, you will fare better during the second. So far, they are right. It’s taken me a few weeks to get this out because I’ve been nervous that I’m speaking to soon and it will all backfire. But this is all about vulnerability and honesty, so if it happens, it happens.

AC (shorthand for Adriamycin and cyclophosphamide) is also known as the “red devil” and that’s exactly what it was to me. Here is a meme that I think perfectly summarizes it’s effects. I spent eight weeks being tortured by this devil. Majority of the time, I struggled with simply getting by and at some points I struggled with finding a reason to get by. But I’m being repetitive because I’ve chronicled most of this already. It’s just funny to me because a lot of what I did during that time is cast over in fog and now that I’m out of the fog, it’s hard to remember what even happened.

I started Taxol, what I like to call the “gentler giant,” on July 11. Since then, I’ve regained a little bit of my life back.

While the treatment side effects are gentler on my body, the infusion process itself is actually longer and more complicated than AC. While AC side effects target much of the gastrointestinal system, Taxol targets joints, muscles, nerve endings, nailbeds and oddly enough, eyelashes and eyebrows. Treatments starts with a steroid and then moves on to a heavy dose of Benadryl, meant to steady any potential allergic reactions but ultimately acts like a sedative that knocks me the fuck out. Which works out perfectly because it’s right about then when the nurses bring in the bags of ice for my feet and hands which serve to preserve my nailbeds and also help prevent neuropathy. This whole process lasts about four hours and I would take those four hours over another two hour treatment of AC any day.

And that’s because I no longer have a constant hangover and many of the side effects that I’ve been complaining about for the past two months. I have some joint pain but it’s nothing I can’t manage. My appetite isn’t back but it’s better than it was. And for the time being, I am not constipated! But the most rewarding part of moving on to Taxol is that I believe a big portion on my brain fog has lifted. I actually went to see a psychiatric nurse a few days after my first Taxol treatment and passed the brain fog test! Who knew there was such a thing. I’ve found some relief in the fact that I can function to a certain level again – without forcing it. But in all honesty, it’s also a bit unnerving.

Yes, I was miserable and just trying to get by but I was also completely indifferent and living life with little to no anxiety due to the fact that I couldn’t feel much that was happening around me. That was probably the first time in my life that I had an anxiety-free existence. Now it’s a tad more clear why my counselor was surprised when I mentioned that I am an anxious person. I was two treatments in and I said, “cancer must have cured my anxiety.” No, it was actually just the brain fog. 

I feel sharper, sassier and I have a little of my spunk back and with that normalcy comes my baseline anxiety. In a way, I need it to feel emotion and feel alive. It’s the type of heart racing that comes when you worry about an email you sent, text that you missed, train that you need to make, deadline that you are approaching, traffic that’s making you late, or the person that you love.

So that brings me to today. I originally wrote this entry on a plane last week. On my way to Los Angeles. For work. These are statements I would never imagine myself saying or typing a month ago. Five weeks ago, my body was comatose on a couch at this time. I was barely making it to the office on Mondays and now I’m flying on a Sunday for a work event the next day. It’s a comeback!!!

With all the excitement comes hesitation – I guess a new form of anxiety. And I felt that when I was packing and as I was getting ready to leave for the airport – and maybe also as I was boarding the plane. Part of me is scared to leave that couch; insecure of my bald head, thinning eyebrows and shedding eyelashes; worried about a potential fever, wave of nausea or muscular weakness; unsure if I can lift my carryon in the overhead compartment; and terrified of being stopped at security because of the metal in my chest.

I still have a way to go but I made it through all of those fears.

I wiped my tears in the Uber, I carried by doctor’s note through JFK security, I lifted my suitcase (even though I was looking for help but that’s coach for you), I wiped down my seat with antibacterial wipes, I kept my head high on the shuttle to Avis when a foreign teenage girl stared at me the entire time, I addressed the elephant in the room with new business partners and I was patient when a LAX TSA agent insisted on patting me down even though I showed her my aforementioned note and repeatedly explained my situation.  

There will be more times like this – occurrences that used to be the norm and now feel like massive hurdles. And with those countless massive hurdles, there are also rare moments that come along and remind me that it’s all worth it.

On my third day in LA, I was feeling a little overly anxious and was missing home just a bit. I went to Joan’s on Third before I started my workday and while I was standing in line a young woman came up to me completely out of the blue. Before I could even return the hello, she said, “I just want to let you know that you look great and you are totally rocking this look. You’re owning it.” (And this was right after I told someone I think it’s harder to be bald in LA than NYC because LA is more vain. LOL.) I told that woman how appreciative I was for the encouragement.

It’s the small things that mean the most and sometimes a stranger can give you exactly what you need.