I was reminded recently why I started this blog in the first place; to meet people where they are and offer some kind of hope or comfort. There are a lot of reasons why I started documenting my journey, but that is one of the more important reasons, in my eyes. I was scrolling through Facebook the other day, wasting time, when I came across a video of a YouTuber who had been diagnosed with lymphoma earlier this year. The video showed her shaving her head once the chemo started taking it away from her. She shares anecdotes of hospital visits and makeup tutorials, but her message resonated with me. I knew exactly how she felt; I had shaved my head in the same way and I remembered how it made me feel. She wanted to share her story because she knew there were people out there that were going through something similar and could find comfort in the shared experience. She wasn't ashamed of her scars or bald head and her strength renewed my own.
Honesty plays a bigger role in the human experience than we give it credit. It could do us so much good if we let it. I think we are all more similar than we realize. Everyone experiences pain, guilt, grief, and suffering. These are such harsh and intimate emotions that they can make us feel isolated. Who wants to talk about bad days and heartbreak, anyway? But when we do, something beautiful happens. First, it gives a name to your demon and makes it seem just a bit more manageable, right? Knowing what haunts you allows you to take away some of its power over you. Second, voicing the pain gives you an outlet and gives you a new perspective. Finally, talking about the things we struggle with shows us that someone else has walked this path too. When I saw the Facebook video, I was drawn to it because I could relate to her. It showed me that I wasn't alone and that there are people out there that have survived what I'm fighting right now.
"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o'er wrought heart and bids it break."
- Shakespeare, Macbeth
In the interest of honesty and healing, let me share with you the darker sides to my diagnosis. I have remained relatively positive in my blog posts, and I will continue to do so because that is how I am choosing to face this. But I have bad days, and I don't want to hide them. A cancer diagnosis is a battle and it isn't always easy, quite the opposite in fact. I don't want to put up false pretenses, and ignoring my shortcomings will do me, and my readers, no good. I want to share this story with you because I think it will serve me well to be honest with myself and others. Then maybe, just maybe, something good will come from this cancer.
On October 16th, we went to the clinic for my 4th treatment. Beforehand, we had a meeting with my oncologist to go over the results of the recent PET scan. We received some much-awaited good news. Let me provide a bit of explanation. A PET scan works by an injection of radioactive medicine that causes areas of high activity in the body to light up once the image is taken; cancer looks like a glowing patch on a dark background. After each round of chemo, I get a drug called Neulasta that helps boost my white blood cells. This causes my bone marrow to light up on a PET scan because of the overactive cells. Since the cancer is in my bones this makes reading the scans difficult and leaves us with results that are not as definitive as we would like. However, the scan did show much less activation than before. They use a scale called SUV to quantify the severity, ranging from 0 to 15. The first PET scan was at a 15, but after just half of the treatments, it has dropped to 4 or 5. Now, my doctor cannot say for sure whether the glow they see is from cancer or medicine, but the decrease is still a very good sign.
Even though this was great news, it came as a disappointment to me. I had fantasized so much about getting good results that when we finally heard them, it didn't meet up to my expectations. I spent the first part of my treatment telling myself that if I could just make it to the halfway mark and get good results, then I would have renewed energy and the final 3 treatments would be a little bit easier. That was not the case. Instead, I slipped into a depressed state for the next week. I became disinterested and detached, the kind of feeling that makes it hard to remove yourself from the couch. I didn't want to go for a walk or read a book or write a new blog post. I didn't want to do anything and I couldn't shake the disinterest. It does seem to be connected to the side effects of chemo though; fatigue and sickness don't make a person feel all that happy. I'm the lucky one though. My depression comes on when I'm confined to the house and feeling generally icky. When I start to feel better physically, that gives me the boost I need to start feeling better mentally. The odd thing is, I don't always realize I'm depressed until I'm on the other side, finally feeling more like myself.
I'm learning a lot about myself during this time and one thing I do when I get depressed is to isolate myself. I ignore phone calls from friends and family, try to bury my thoughts in way too much Netflix, and I end up making things worse because of it. I will say this to you, the reader, in an effort to force some accountability into the equation. I know that I will have more bad weeks before treatment is over, but I hope that I will recognize when I start sinking and be able to start taking care of myself. I make no claim to being clinically depressed because it is more situational for me; however, I'm beginning to develop a stronger empathy for those who struggle with depression.
As we start a new week I am feeling energized and hopeful again so join me in a little self-care this week. Go for a walk, grab coffee with friends, listen to your favorite song, take a bath, read a new book or an old favorite, or go out dancing; do something that makes you feel good. Better yet, talk to someone you trust if you're really struggling. So much good can come from sharing with someone else. When I finally gathered the energy and presence of mind to call a dear friend of mine, we talked for quite awhile and I felt much better when we hung up the phone. Opening up takes the pressure off and gives you an outlet. I have to take advantage of the weeks I am feeling more like myself because they are the weeks that keep me going. I'm learning not to take the good days for granted and to be thankful for small mercies.
Please know that I am not trying to make light of depression, but I do know all too well how paralyzing it can be. The self-care I mentioned in the paragraph above is not easy to do when in the thick of it, but sometimes it is important and necessary to force ourselves to get off the couch. I know that sometimes people need professional help to feel better, but a step in the right direction can still make a difference. Next time I have a bad week, I will try to take my own advice too. Let's find ways to chase happiness rather than run from pain.
You know, its kind of funny...I think I was unhappy long before I was diagnosed because of all the pain I was dealing with, but now we have answers and I know that I'm doing something about it. I am healing (the proof is in the PET scan) and that is all I could ever ask for.
I have some news to add. Treatment is going well, as I said above, and my doctor is very happy with the progress that is being made. However, I am experiencing the beginning stages of neuropathy. For those that don't know, that is just a fancy word for nerve damage. There are different degrees and mine is very slight (just numbness in my fingertips), but it is something that we will have to monitor. We do not want it to worsen or become permanent so I ask for prayers over this. I can help prevent further damage by covering my hands and feet with ice packs during infusion, so we will give that a try next week during round 5. Given my age and the fact that we are more than halfway done, it should be very manageable.
Prayer Requests:
- That my body responds well to the chemo and that the cancer continues to melt away.
- Renewed energy to finish out the last two treatments. (Just two left! Yay!)
- Thanks and praise for good results!
- For my Aunt Carrie as she has started cancer treatment of her own.