CHEMO OR PREGNANCY . . . ONE OR THE SAME???

Who in the heck ever invented Chemo had a very sadistic personality. I mean, really, it’s bad enough dealing with the pesky baldness, but morning sickness? Are you kidding me?

I’ve quickly learned that since the medication kills off your fastest-growing cells, including ones in your digestive tract, common side effects are either explosive diarrhea, the kind of constipation that requires a Lamaze coach, or, horrifyingly, both. Most people assume nausea is the worst part of chemo - nope, it's actually what goes on at the other end. And as of July 27th I’m becoming an expert on what to avoid on the food chain so I’m not permanently nesting in the bathroom.

This last week the port was surgically put in the right side of my chest, and then I started my poisoned cocktail. And I just have to say that everyday has been filled with one surprise after another!
I can usually be found saying WTH? Partly, because I’ve already lost my mind . . . another side-effect of chemo. The other reason . . . well, crap, I’ve already forgotten. See. It’s hopeless.

It’s at times like this that I’m glad I have a fourteen year old around the house or I’d have to start leaving sticky notes for myself. I tell my son that God has a sense of humor, and that’s why I’m experiencing all of this in his teenage years. (It also helps alive the head butting when he thinks he really does know everything and I won’t have the brains to correct him if he’s wrong.)

At least being forgetful isn’t the worst side-effect. I find it’s the emotional baggage I have the hardest time with. Thankfully my poor family knows I’m dopey anyway and they just accept me. We’ve also been very appreciative to all the meals that family and friends have brought in. (Otherwise my children would be living off of cold cereal and peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.)

As for myself, I’ve been told to add a lot of bran and fiber to my diet.

Yeah, I know, nothing says open up and say ahh like a good ole’ Metamucil cookie. Well, the good news! I can’t taste it, but then I guess it doesn't matter since I’m now trying to eat to alleviate symptoms, cuz I’m sure as heck not able to eat for enjoyment.
Alas, chocolate has taken on the taste of mud. Which I find to be a cruel and unusual punishment! I mean, didn’t I go through the whole food tasting weird, crap when I was pregnant?

See what I mean about being sadistic. Messing with a woman’s chocolate should be outlawed!

Not only has the whole food changing diet been an eye opener for me, but I’m grudgingly learning my limits as well as to where my speed bumps are. And yes, it is only a speed bump. I tell myself this at least a hundred times a day, and then I look down to make sure that I don’t have a nine month belly sticking out and cankles on top of my ankles.

I’m also staying on top of my pain meds. Yep. No being brave. No saying, "Oh, it's only a little queasiness, I can take it." I’m being a wimp and slamming the drugs when I need to, cause I quickly learned after surgery and all the nausea, that it is a lot harder to control pain or nausea once it starts than to prevent it in the first place. . . . Then again, maybe that would explain all my brain farts lately.
So if I’ve forgotten something, or I’ve left one of my children somewhere please send them home and accept my apology for having lost my brain. This will soon pass . . . I hope.

As for now, it seems that my life and my schedule is in the Dr’s hands, but no matter how exhausting the rounds of chemo are, or the emotional mind games I play with myself, I’ve found there is always a bright side to my many office visits . . . and that is staring at the imprint on the paper from the Dr.’s exam table. (You know the scratchy white stuff you have to sit on.)
It shows that my butt isn’t growing like it did when I was pregnant, which in its self is a miracle! It also tells me that all these pesky, and yet nauseating symptoms are actually from chemo, which means I’m definitely NOT pregnant, and that one day, God willing, this all will be a thing of the past.