The (Almost) End is In Sight!

I’m onto my final round of chemo!

While I am overjoyed to have survived these last 4 months of being sick, tired, nauseous, run down and in pain, it’s also NOT REALLY over. In the past few weeks, I can’t count how many people have said “Oh you’re almost done!”, and while yes, I am almost done my 4 months of chemotherapy, the real heavy shit is just beginning.

As we try and make surgery plans, plan for Matt to go back to work, plan for me to take time off, and somehow figure out how to parent our 3 kids during my recovery, it’s becoming a bit overwhelming. When I started, I assumed chemo would be the hardest part, and now I’m not so sure. I think the emotional weight of surgery will be significantly heavier than shaving my head or needing to nap every other weekend.

It’s a hard thing to help people through. Logically, I know we are so blessed and everyone means well, but being told “It’s almost over” while I’m still deciding how I want them to amputate my breasts seems a bit backwards. Being told to be thankful I’m almost done, when I know I’ll only get there after immense pain and a long recovery seems to diminish the actual work and sacrifice I’m signing up for.

As it stands, the first week of January I’ll have my bilateral mastectomy and lymph node removal. Matt’s pat leave will be done that week as well and Charlee will be in full time daycare. I’m expecting to be bed ridden for at least 2 weeks (potentially more). We’re lucky we have parents who can swoop in and stay with us, friends to help with picking up the kids, and a very large chest freezer to store holiday leftovers for easy meals. (Let’s not even talk about the extreme level of Mom Guilt that comes with being unwell and unable to do all the things your kids want)

But unfortunately, I’m not yet ALMOST done. We’re taking it one treatment, one round, one day at a time, and unfortunately, this shit just seems to go on forever.

This last round was exceptionally worse as far as bone pain goes, so I spent 2 full days on the couch or in bed, full of T3s or enough edibles to knock out a horse. It’s hard being the sick one. I want to help with the house, care for my kids, enjoy time with Matt and yet, I get stuck on a couch barely able to carry myself up the stairs. It feels unfair to all of us, but I mostly worry about how unfair it is to the kids. Are they missing out? Will me being sick ruin their holiday season? It’s all pretty heavy, and there seems to be no easy answers.

I’m also getting saltier.

As I lose time doing things I love, or lose things I love (like my eyebrows), I am definitely noticing a change in my attitude and optimism. While there’s never any part of me that thinks we’re just going to give up and lay down, I’m tired. I’m tired of having to constantly fight, push, work harder, and plan around a disease that doesn’t give me the same courtesy. But maybe I just need a nap.