hungover

If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been writing a lot over the past two months. And there’s a simple reason for that. Chemo is fucking rough. It’s harder than I expected and that’s not easy to admit. 

I like to write with purpose about something I’ve learned, overcome or am gearing up for. And there needs to be some sort of silver lining. Up until this point, there have been clear markers of success or at at least movement to the next obstacle. Lately, I’ve been in an endless funk and am struggling to find motivation to do anything, let alone write about the lack there of and find meaning in it. So this all may sound like a rant of sorts but hopefully I can get somewhere. 

Chemo is different for everyone. Yet a lot of people think they know what chemo is like! News flash: we (people with various types of cancer) don’t all take the same thing and each body reacts differently. Hair loss may be a common thread but there’s is a lot more going on that doesn’t meet the eye. 

I just finished the “AC” portion of “AC-T”. For me, it’s as if my 33-year-old body is experiencing the aftermath of attempting to party as hard as my 25-year-old former self. 

I get chemo every other Thursday and the best way I’ve come to describe it is having the worst perpetual hangover until the following Wednesday. I lay on the couch in oblivion on Friday, Saturday and Sunday as if I was out living my best possible life the nights before. By Monday, I’m in denial that I’m still in pain and try to make plans for the week only to flake out because I need my bed and by Tuesday night, I finally start to round the corner. 

The big problem is that after all those years of actual partying, none of my known hangover hacks will cure this bender. Luckily I have a rescue pill for nausea but the breakfast bacon, egg and cheese doesn’t settle my queasy stomach and unfortunately there isn’t a hair of the dog to try. Or maybe that’s my Neulasta OnPro? Definitely not the same effects, only heightens the pain. Can’t sleep it off because while I’m constantly fatigued and tired, I can barely ever fall asleep when I should (much of this was written wide awake at 3am). I’m drinking enough water to pee every 30 minutes but my mouth is as dry as a desert. Don’t get me started about bowel movements. I’m taking a laxative for every anti-nausea and still nothing. Yes. I am constipated! And maybe I want to talk about it! 

Oh and the worst of all, BRAIN FOG! It’s no joke. You know when you wake up still drunk and it doesn’t feel like your brain is connected to your head? Probably just opening myself up for judgement but yes I’ve been there. It’s kind of like that. I’ve never said “I’m not tracking” as many times in my life as I have the past eight weeks. There have been deep conversations (or I should say one-sided monologues) that I just haven’t been able to digest to develop a response. I’ve caught myself mid sentence talking in circles and blatantly saying “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense.” Or the most embarrassing, caught at a standstill mid sentence because I cannot recall the simple word I’m looking to say.

The physical and mental combination has lead me into a bit of a state. A state of “I don’t give a shit.” There is no FOMO. There is no anxiety. There is no interest. 

You could say I’m depressed. That’s what I may have been told. 

So I guess I’m here to end the stigma against two topics that need more attention - constipation AND depression! Honestly, that’s the perfect mix of bodily and emotional trauma. 

In all seriousness, writing about depression is depressing, especially when your brain is a bit cloudy. It’s taken about three weeks and many attempts to write this post because I don’t know what point I’m even trying to get across. And I don’t like to complain. I also don’t like to cancel plans and ignore calls/texts but I seem to be doing a lot of that.

The truth is, I have been trying to justify the way I feel due to timing of circumstances. For instance, during my second round, I blamed the hair loss on top of the chemo hangover for feeling paralyzed. The third round coincided with Father’s Day so I made that the excuse for my constant crying. 

Obviously hair loss and Fathers Day were going to effect the way I feel. But regardless, chemo makes cancer feel real and that is what I’m really struggling with. Having cancer, getting treatment and trying to continue living life as normally as possible when life feels incredible stalled. This wasn’t how I pictured my life at 33 and this has changed the way I look at my future timeline. These aren’t the problems I expected to have at this stage of my life. And I just really miss my life. 

It wasn’t until this last round that I finally gave myself a break. There was no “extra” element to blame over feeling emotionally distraught. It was just my bald body laying at home in the fetal position on a gorgeous sunny weekend afternoon, feeling like absolute shit and praying for the next poop to come. Of course I was depressed. And I can feel depressed just because, without pinpointing a compounding reason. And once I accepted this, rather than willing for myself to “feel normal”, I think I actually felt some relief. In the game of chemo, no one can win when you are hard on yourself. The chemo is hard enough. 

So now I’m done with AC phase of treatment (first 4 rounds) and I’m in the non-hangover time before the new treatment begins on Thursday. Everyone says that Taxol (second 4 rounds) is different and I’m not sure what to fully expect. But I’m going to expect it to be difficult. I do know that I’ll most likely lose my eyebrows and eyelashes. Very strange but for whatever reason the treatments target different regions of hair. My nails will discolor. I will potentially have more joint pain. Fatigue will continue to build. And something I’m looking forward to - relief from the brain fog. The counselor has warned me that while this is good, there is a chance it can heighten anxiety and pain because the fog may have been shielding my mind. Will that then heighten my depression? Only time will tell. 

What I can report is today is a good day. And I just enjoyed a somewhat normal few days. As normal as normal can be at the moment. I am starting to plan little (and big) things to look forward to, both in the immediate future and later on. A ModelFit class once every other week is a big feat that excites me. A spontaneous dinner date out is now a special and rare occasion. Weekend trips are something to get through two weeks for. And big trips are something to start planning for the fall. 

So there’s my silver lining. Appreciating the simple things again while living a not so simple life. And living it up until Thursday when we start anew again. With or without eyebrows.