Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Hitting a wall hurts

7/20/11 – I hit a wall today and can I just say it was unpleasant. 
Today has been hard.  I planned to start working from work full time today.  Finally get back to normal.  The morning passed by slowly (like it normally does at work).  Lunch time came and I nuked my food and headed outside to read and relax some.  The hour passed quickly and soon enough I headed back inside to finish my work.  As I walked inside I noticed I was dizzy.  I got on the elevator to go upstairs and started to feel off balance.  When I made it to my desk I popped a vitamin to try to perk up.  I waited a few minutes and realized it wasn’t going to work.  I was worn out.  I needed a rest.  I needed to sleep. 
I evaluated my options.  I could power through it and be miserable once I got home and probably have a rough next couple of days or I could listen to my body and go home and work and rest.  Every fiber of my being wanted to stay, wanted to be normal again. Every indication from my body however proved that I needed to rest.  Defeated I went and told my manager that I needed to go home.  My work has been very understanding of my recovery so I knew it wouldn’t be a problem.  I just felt like I owed them better. 
I’ve been off work for over 8 months now.  Yes, I’ve worked when I could but I haven’t been back, back to work for a long time.  They have worked through me leaving at the worst possible moment to covering my responsibilities as I ease my way back into a somewhat normal schedule.  Leaving to go home because my body isn’t fully healed after chemo is finally over and done just felt like a cop out.  Like I was letting them down.  No, no one said that, but it’s what it felt like to me.
As I walked out of the building I wondered if I had enough energy to even drive home.  I started crying as soon as I reached the safety of my car.  I realized that I was the one that had lied to myself.  I told myself that I was strong, that I had made it through and was finally finished.  I told myself that I was now normal, that I could go back to life like I knew before and everything would work perfectly.  I lied to me.  Realizing that you aren’t normal after chemo is finished is much different that realizing that you’re not as physically strong as you think during an off week from chemo.  You aren’t going back to having chemo the following week.  You’re finished, but your body is still dealing with the affects of the drugs long after you stop putting them in your body.  In my mind I knew this, but I didn’t want to believe that I would be one of those people.  I was going to be different.  I was going to bounce back quickly and never miss a beat. 
That’s the wall I hit.  It made me doubt myself.  Made me doubt my strength and my positive attitude through the whole process.  “It was supposed to be over.  People say and think that I’m done.  I bought in to that.  Why?  Why, am I not normal?  After all I’ve gone through, can’t I please finally stop?”  No.  I should have known better.  I finally threw myself a pity party.  It was spectacular.  There were a lot of sobs, a lot of frustration, a lot of bitterness.  In the end, there was realization.  That realization was that I was lying to me and I should and did know better.  Things don’t end with the last treatment.  My body is still working through this and I need to listen to what it’s telling me. 
Now don’t feel sorry for me or pity my situation.  I’ve never wanted that.  I write these things to simply share the experience and give you some insight into what people dealing with cancer experience.  Before my life changed cancer was just a word.  If I didn’t acknowledge it, it couldn’t hurt me.  Now, it’s an experience, a lifestyle almost.  I’m back to my usual outlook on things.  I make it.  I still have to focus on the good and push forward.  Surrender is not an option.  Tears don’t make you weak, they simply refine your strength.
If I could have anything to eat I would like some apple pie with vanilla ice cream.  My song of the day is “Keep Your Head Up” by Andy Grammer.  Because that is what we/I have to do – “keep our head up” though it is hard.
Night y’all!

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