Something my dad taught me when I was little was, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Thinking back on that, I think that maybe my mouth kinda got me into a lot of trouble...thinking a little more, I don't know if that mouth ever stopped getting me in trouble, but I think I tried to keep it shut around the people that it could have offended...for a little while anyway. Then my cup would get full and I would spew pent up, uncensored unpleasantries on auto-pilot. Saying only nice things has it's value, but not everything we experience in life is nice, and if we don't talk about the not-so-nice things they can build up in our system like a toxin - and perhaps cause some insomnia? :)
This blog is on my mind constantly. I'm always thinking of what could be important enough to share? Or maybe something seemingly not important, but quietly significant? I want to be able to share positive, inspiring thoughts of growth and experience to let you all know that I'm ok, because I know you worry. I worry. It's ok to worry, but I need to let you all know that it's not as bad as it sounds on paper. Chemotherapy is such a scary word that has been dramatized in movies and books as this terrible ordeal...and it is...but it isn't all bad all the time and I want to convey that to you.
This past week though, has been harder than the rest since I started this chemo 3 months ago (has it been that long?). It took me by surprise since I have been handling these treatments so well, and since my WBC counts were so high going into it. I've been pretty pissed off to be honest. I had been hearing about how hard the side-effects of the 3 chemos I'm on can be for some people, and usually they only do 2 of the 3 that I'm on. I thought that I must have been especially strong because I had hardly felt any of them in 4 cycles. Then cycle 5 and pow! Right in the kisser. I got them all at once. And then I got mad. All I want is to be able to go outside and enjoy the rain, the sun, the sky, the ocean, the everything. I've been pretty accepting of not being able to run (or walk fast for that matter), not having hair, not having school, not, not, not...but to take away being able to go outside just plain old pissed me off. And then I closed off. After all that has transpired over the last 14 months my first instinct is still to run and hide when I am at my weakest - to not let people see me down.
I'm coming out of the chemo cave - humbled...again. Grateful that I'm able to simply go outside. Happy that I don't feel like crap all day long. Added resolve to fight. These drugs are supposed to make you sick - even better, they are supposed to make those weak cancer cells sicker. This isn't supposed to be a walk in the park.
The insomnia is one of the side-effects that is still left. Talking to you is helping. Another thing I am grateful for - such a strong support system. Thank-you so much for everything. The rain is starting again, I can hear the waves crashing on the cliffs and the coqui frogs are almost silent. I think it's my cue to try to sleep again.
good-night,
denise
About Us
- Nise and Brian
- Hilo, HI, United States
- Denise found a lump in her breast in Aug 2008, and was diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer on 9/11/08. She went through 16 cycles of chemo, a lumpectomy, and radiation ending in June 2009. In July 2009 Denise was given the news that the cancer had metastasized to her bones and liver. New chemo was started Aug 2009, then radiation Dec 2009, but the cancer continues to spread through the liver and bones. Today Denise and Brian live in Denise's hometown of Hilo on the Big Island of Hawaii and live each day as it is the best day ever.