Can you imagine we are officially in week 11 of treatment? It doesn’t feel real. This week, I have been given a reprieve from chemo, and it’s been pleasant. I mean, it is only Tuesday, but we can only go up from here, right? Today, my symptoms include fatigue, bone pain, pain in my head/teeth, and tingling in my right leg – for a moment; I freaked out that this may be a blood clot since the pain is coming from behind the right knee. I’m not sure how to rule it out other than just noting that blood levels are whack. I’ve been attempting to walk 10k steps, but today, I won’t reach that goal – that’s okay; I’ll make it through. I’ll do some light stretches as much as I’m able. Today, I have recognized just how much I am doing. I have put the diagnosis outside of my mind and am just bearing the symptoms of chemo as best and pushing through. This pushing through has been a lesson that everyone around me has stated to “STOP.” I can’t, though; I feel like there is so much to do and so much time and joy to reclaim in the face of the diagnosis and the robbery of that peace of mind. This is stressing me out.
Especially with work being an ongoing situation – I do feel like nothing has changed except the added variables of pain and fatigue. I can no longer do this. I need to put a stop and focus on healing, and part of me feels like I am prioritizing that with my morning routine and all the steps I am incorporating from my therapist.
You know, if we’re being real. The step I need to implement is saying no to family. I have continued to bend in uncomfortable positions to care for their feelings, and I need to let that go. I am genuinely thankful for the support they are providing me and the improvement our relationship has undergone. Yet, I need to face that their support WILL STILL BE THERE (hopefully) – and my fear that any negation or refusal on my part will lead to a withdrawal of this love and support is unfounded. Crossing my fingers.
Typically, I view life and responsibilities as a juggling act. A certain number of balls are made of glass – I cannot drop them since they are super important, and a certain number are rubber – if I drop them, it’s okay; they’ll bounce back up. I’m now seeing how much of the family ones I’ve considered to be glass – they may need to fall and figure out if they are glass or if they’ve been rubber all along.
I am in pain, and I am exhausted – I am running ragged. I sleep over 8 hours a night, and it’s still not enough. I take my medications, and the pain is lessened, but not enough.
My planner is another area of stress. I have the affiliate link for the Passion Planner—a system I’ve used since college—and now I’m finding it overwhelming and somewhat aversive. I can’t stop using it, though – I am relying on it a lot since it’s helping me navigate through chemo brain and keeping up with the onslaught of medical appointments. I don’t have enough PTO to take a day off, and I really need a mental health day soon (I’m saving whatever hours I do have to cover any days I’m unable to attend work due to the severity of the symptoms). Tomorrow might be good; I have a half day to participate in an appointment and then focus on a report. But mentally, it’s nothing since tomorrow I have a meeting with HR to review the new accommodation forms my oncologist submitted. They only allotted 15 minutes for the meeting – you already know the decision.
Gosh, this entry is a big mess, and I’m just rambling. It’s word vomit, but at least it’s out there.
Liminal Leisure 
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