9/9/11 – Hello all! I am back from my self imposed blog hiatus.
I took some time off writing because I just wasn’t feeling it. I just wasn’t feeling anything, to be perfectly honest. This blog is all about me sharing what I’m going through and being “real”. Well, it’s about to get real.
When I finished chemo I went for my usual 2 week check up to make sure that my blood counts were all recovering and talk about my next steps. As I had mentioned earlier, I asked my oncologist if other patients have a problem with chemo being over. (Not the fact that they no longer have to pump their bodies full of toxic chemicals but the fact that there is now nothing actively preventing the cancer.) My doctor said that a lot of patients have a very tough time with treatment being over and a large number struggle with depression. Knowing that I was not alone in my awkward feelings gave me some comfort.
I didn’t understand the depression part though. Why would anyone be depressed that chemo was over? Anxious, sure. I could understand anxiety, but not depression.
My last blog was on August 22nd. Since that time I have slowly headed down hill, slipping slowly into the abyss of depression. The thing I couldn’t understand when I went to my doctor’s appointment earlier in the month was how or why this could happen. It is now all too clear. It was actually happening, and it was happening to me.
I withdrew from people because I was embarrassed that I was struggling now that the "hard part" was considered over. I didn't understand my own feelings and so I doubted that anyone else could understand them either. I gained weight as chemo progressed and my last round saw me gaining the most weight. After chemo finished I vowed to start eating right and working out again. I started my diet and began walking daily. I saw results the first week. The problem began around week 2. I gained the 3 pounds back that I had lost the previous week. Week 3 I gained more weight though I continued to diet and exercise. I started to become frustrated and decided to join a gym to stay motivated. I have been working out at my new gym for a little over 3 weeks now and all I seem to do is gain weight which does little for my self esteem. The numbness in my hands began to spread and become painful (it felt like I was constantly gripping a cast iron skillet). I now have 2 numb hands and 2 numb feet. The spreading scared me and was something I did not understand because the rest of me seemed to be recovering. I would shake my hands in frustration willing them to start feeling again. (Note: shaking your hands does not wake them up, I've tried like a gazillion times). I struggled with feeling productive at work since I now take a little longer to do something that would have previously taken me 10 seconds. I battled back and forth over whether I should start back to school or give it more time. I've never considered myself overly pretty and I've never been the cool kid. I was fine with that because I thought I was cute and I was quick with responses, I was smart. My one thing that I had that made me feel good and productive was delayed. I was suddenly the kid who got the joke 5 minutes after the punchline was told. I just felt confused, frustrated, and like a failure. Nothing I did was right. Nothing I did worked. I started to not like myself.
I'm an accountant so I'm used to identifying a problem, deciding on the steps to fix it, and following through and seeing the desired results. I had a tumor, I had surgery, I felt better. I had cancer, I went through chemo, I'm now in remission. Why didn't my problems now fit into the same solution sequence. I gained weight, I joined a gym, but no payoff. I had numb hands, I waited patiently for them to get better, but time passed and they only got worse. Why wasn't it working? I could no longer fix my problems. I was faced with the reality that I had something that I could not control. Sure, we all have things that are outside of our control but with all that I had just gone through that was unacceptable. If I couldn't control these simple little things how could I control my cancer from not coming back? How could I start to become normal?
So there I was....at the very bottom of my well clawing to dig myself out with zero success. I didn't know what to do. I could no longer hide how I felt. I was tired of fighting. My mask of security was off and I was completely exposed. Vunerable. The one thing I never wanted to be.
Last Wednesday I had a meeting at church. I left work, went to the gym and then ran home. I was feeling very down and all I wanted to do was get to the comfort of my shower and let the hot water relax my muscles and clear my mind. I would have stayed in that shower if the hot water hadn't run out. I trudged my way to my bedroom and got dressed. I looked terrible. My eyes were puffy, my hair was wet and frizzy, and you could take just one look at my face and see that I felt defeated. Not ideal fashion for leaving the house, but I had a meeting. I went to church and was quickly found out. As I was walking in a friend asked me how I was doing. I just can't abide by the usual "I'm good (smile)!" I wasn't good. I wasn't fine either. I was down. I was low. I simply said "Not that great, but I'm ok." My friend was not taking that for an answer. I explained all I was going through and all I had been dealing with since the end of treatment. She seemed to understand. At the end of our conversation she said, "Can I pray with you?" to which I replied, "sure". We prayed together and then I headed in for my meeting. That night before bed I vowed to pray every night. I realized that was something I hadn't been doing. I think I was angry with God. I had finally allowed myself to be angry over the situation and it banished me to my well until I was ready to ask for help.
You see, I couldn't dig myself out on my own. I never realized that until my friend showed me the rope that was hanging down the side of the well the whole time. I was too absorbed in my despair to simply look around. I was too busy trying to strategise a way out. The rope (God) was there the whole time. I had just decided that I was too good for the rope. I didn't need the rope. The rope let me fall into the well so why would I trust it to get me out? Faith. It's a simple thing but it's sometimes hard to trust. I needed to get my faith, my strength back. It had never left. It was waiting on me the whole time.
Since last Wednesday I have started praying every day and I can honestly say that I feel much better. Things are not the way I want them yet. I am still struggling with the changes to my body and how it affects my weight, I still have numb hands and feet, I still get frustrated when a simple task takes longer than it did before, but I know that it's not a reflection upon me as a person. It's just something that I have to adjust to and work through. I'm stronger for the experience.
I know this has been a long blog and it hasn't been the funniest post or the most uplifting but depression is a real thing that real people struggle with. I'm not removing the possiblity that I may have more battles with it to come. I just want people to know that you may not understand it, you may not get it, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a real problem for someone - be willing to show them the rope in their well.
If I could have anything to eat I would like a vanilla latte and a cake dounut. My song of the day is "I Lift My Hands" by Chris Tomlin.
Later!
Reminder: The Get Your Rear In Gear 5K Run/Walk - Diva Dash is this weekend in Phenix City, AL. The race starts at 9:00. I will be walking and would love to have you join me! Check out the site to register.
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