Yes I know, I’m well overdue writing this, but the fact is I just haven’t had the energy to write. Truthfully, I haven’t had the energy to think either, at least not sensible, cohesive, interesting thoughts. Most of my thoughts have been rambling, one dimensional, repetitive, inane loops which have done little more than dull any unfortunate listeners into a stupored malaise not dissimilar to my own. Cheery.
I had my last chemo treatment on Tuesday. Yep, you read that right, my LAST CHEMO! Whoop whoop and all those other Americanisms which make me sound more insincere than genuine. It’s a weird mix of emotions. I’m not elated, no. Relieved? Yes. This makes me sound a little ungracious, I realise that, but in order to enjoy the thrill of no more chemo (hopefully) I have to get through the horrible slog of my body being under attack for another ten days. It’s not as simple as just no more chemo. Chemo still sucks.
To add to the strain is my upcoming and probably ill-considered 10K Race For Life on Sunday morning – this coming Sunday morning – five days after said last chemo. Any of you who’ve read any of this blog before will have learned of my trials and tribulations with running (plodding in my case) but it is I who has been the most surprised at how important it has become to me over the course of the dreaded chemotherapy. Obviously I hadn’t meant to plan a 10K (only achieved once before in my ‘running career’) so swiftly after the treatment but there you go. Best get on with it and focus on those things which have made the training – and the chemo – bearable.
I have been lucky enough to garner myself a spectacularly enthusiastic and committed running partner (who shall remain nameless as she’s the shy type) who has surpassed the call of duty to plan routes, take me to the pub, badger me with positive texts and also swear a lot when the going has got tough. It’s definitely helped me knowing that as I slog round that route I’ll have her profanities ringing in my ears.
I’ve also discovered reflexology – recommended by a friend of a friend going through similar to me – and it’s really helped with not only the physical side effects of the chemo but the mental crucifixion too. With chemo it’s all about invasion of my body by needles and blood and injections and soreness and pain and sickness and headaches and exhaustion. With reflexology there’s none of that. When I’m in the throes of the chemo I come out of a reflexology session feeling much better, when I’m feeling well I come out of a reflexology session feeling like I’m walking on air.
I hate to say it but Facebook has been a bit of a saviour. It has its knockers (that’s not a euphemism) but for me it’s been a way of keeping in touch with people without having to be particularly active myself. After my diagnosis I was surprised that whilst I pride myself on my ability to make and keep friends and love and adore them accordingly, what I naturally did was to hunker down into the bosom of my family to get through it all. It’s not that I didn’t want to see my mates, I just wanted to see them less, which I know sounds terrible and I do feel bad about it, but that was the way it was. As soon as that diagnosis bell rang my need to be a social animal diminished. It’s still diminished now. So Facebook was good for that, I could be nosy, pass comment and not have to commit. Once I’d explained to people that just because I didn’t reply to a text or a message straight away it didn’t mean I was licking my wounds in secret, it just meant I was doing my own thing.
One thing that I’ve gained from all this has been an increased ability to say no. It’s something I’ve struggled with all my life, most people do I think because our inbuilt mechanism is to be nice to people in order to make them happy. But cancer has changed me in that respect. Of course when I was diagnosed people wanted to see me for varying reasons. Some because they are good, wonderful friends, some because they thought I might die and better get in quickly, some to sympathise, some to tell their own stories, some to be harbingers of doom – I kid you not. I have not had a period of my life where the unexpected ring of my doorbell has made my heart sink as much as it does now.
You might wonder why this should be the case. Shouldn’t I be pleased to have lots of visitors? Aren’t I sounding mean again? The thing is, just because I’m at home it doesn’t mean I’m available. It has never meant that and it means that even less so now. My days and weeks are carefully structured. I have to plan to see people well in advance because my energy levels are so low and I don’t know how I’ll feel. My brain is full of fug and can’t keep information; I’ve double booked more people than I care to remember (you know who you are) and at the end of the day when I’m trying simply to get through the process of emptying the boys’ lunch boxes and getting the tea on I can’t manage anything other than what’s in my head to do. And then I get tearful because it’s so frustrating not being the welcoming host I used to be because I can’t be, and a lot of the time, I don’t want to be. I can only say sorry for that.
Radiotherapy starts on July 2nd, this is a good thing, this means that the violent treatments will be over by the end of July, thus affording my boys and husband a much more relaxed summer holiday where we can all have space to recover – a bit. I have yet to discover the impact of that, I’m hoping it won’t be as drastic as the chemo and I’m led to believe it’s not, but it is still pretty vile, so expect some delightful updates on blisters, x-ray machines and sunburn. Oh, and the hot flushes have started already, that’ll be worth a few column inches…
I’ve digressed, you can tell it’s been a while since I’ve written, I’m jabbering like an idiot and I’m not even being funny. Where are the jokes? Where are the laughs? Where’s the good-humoured hilarious blogger I’ve tried to be? Frankly, she’s bloody exhausted and has run out of jokes, for today at least. She’s saving her energy for that 10K.
Wish me luck.
https://www.justgiving.com/baldys-buddies/
https://www.facebook.com/felicity.gibson1
https://twitter.com/Baldybitesback
(I'm not very good at Twitter, mind...)
I had my last chemo treatment on Tuesday. Yep, you read that right, my LAST CHEMO! Whoop whoop and all those other Americanisms which make me sound more insincere than genuine. It’s a weird mix of emotions. I’m not elated, no. Relieved? Yes. This makes me sound a little ungracious, I realise that, but in order to enjoy the thrill of no more chemo (hopefully) I have to get through the horrible slog of my body being under attack for another ten days. It’s not as simple as just no more chemo. Chemo still sucks.
To add to the strain is my upcoming and probably ill-considered 10K Race For Life on Sunday morning – this coming Sunday morning – five days after said last chemo. Any of you who’ve read any of this blog before will have learned of my trials and tribulations with running (plodding in my case) but it is I who has been the most surprised at how important it has become to me over the course of the dreaded chemotherapy. Obviously I hadn’t meant to plan a 10K (only achieved once before in my ‘running career’) so swiftly after the treatment but there you go. Best get on with it and focus on those things which have made the training – and the chemo – bearable.
I have been lucky enough to garner myself a spectacularly enthusiastic and committed running partner (who shall remain nameless as she’s the shy type) who has surpassed the call of duty to plan routes, take me to the pub, badger me with positive texts and also swear a lot when the going has got tough. It’s definitely helped me knowing that as I slog round that route I’ll have her profanities ringing in my ears.
I’ve also discovered reflexology – recommended by a friend of a friend going through similar to me – and it’s really helped with not only the physical side effects of the chemo but the mental crucifixion too. With chemo it’s all about invasion of my body by needles and blood and injections and soreness and pain and sickness and headaches and exhaustion. With reflexology there’s none of that. When I’m in the throes of the chemo I come out of a reflexology session feeling much better, when I’m feeling well I come out of a reflexology session feeling like I’m walking on air.
I hate to say it but Facebook has been a bit of a saviour. It has its knockers (that’s not a euphemism) but for me it’s been a way of keeping in touch with people without having to be particularly active myself. After my diagnosis I was surprised that whilst I pride myself on my ability to make and keep friends and love and adore them accordingly, what I naturally did was to hunker down into the bosom of my family to get through it all. It’s not that I didn’t want to see my mates, I just wanted to see them less, which I know sounds terrible and I do feel bad about it, but that was the way it was. As soon as that diagnosis bell rang my need to be a social animal diminished. It’s still diminished now. So Facebook was good for that, I could be nosy, pass comment and not have to commit. Once I’d explained to people that just because I didn’t reply to a text or a message straight away it didn’t mean I was licking my wounds in secret, it just meant I was doing my own thing.
One thing that I’ve gained from all this has been an increased ability to say no. It’s something I’ve struggled with all my life, most people do I think because our inbuilt mechanism is to be nice to people in order to make them happy. But cancer has changed me in that respect. Of course when I was diagnosed people wanted to see me for varying reasons. Some because they are good, wonderful friends, some because they thought I might die and better get in quickly, some to sympathise, some to tell their own stories, some to be harbingers of doom – I kid you not. I have not had a period of my life where the unexpected ring of my doorbell has made my heart sink as much as it does now.
You might wonder why this should be the case. Shouldn’t I be pleased to have lots of visitors? Aren’t I sounding mean again? The thing is, just because I’m at home it doesn’t mean I’m available. It has never meant that and it means that even less so now. My days and weeks are carefully structured. I have to plan to see people well in advance because my energy levels are so low and I don’t know how I’ll feel. My brain is full of fug and can’t keep information; I’ve double booked more people than I care to remember (you know who you are) and at the end of the day when I’m trying simply to get through the process of emptying the boys’ lunch boxes and getting the tea on I can’t manage anything other than what’s in my head to do. And then I get tearful because it’s so frustrating not being the welcoming host I used to be because I can’t be, and a lot of the time, I don’t want to be. I can only say sorry for that.
Radiotherapy starts on July 2nd, this is a good thing, this means that the violent treatments will be over by the end of July, thus affording my boys and husband a much more relaxed summer holiday where we can all have space to recover – a bit. I have yet to discover the impact of that, I’m hoping it won’t be as drastic as the chemo and I’m led to believe it’s not, but it is still pretty vile, so expect some delightful updates on blisters, x-ray machines and sunburn. Oh, and the hot flushes have started already, that’ll be worth a few column inches…
I’ve digressed, you can tell it’s been a while since I’ve written, I’m jabbering like an idiot and I’m not even being funny. Where are the jokes? Where are the laughs? Where’s the good-humoured hilarious blogger I’ve tried to be? Frankly, she’s bloody exhausted and has run out of jokes, for today at least. She’s saving her energy for that 10K.
Wish me luck.
https://www.justgiving.com/baldys-buddies/
https://www.facebook.com/felicity.gibson1
https://twitter.com/Baldybitesback
(I'm not very good at Twitter, mind...)