I don't know why in the world I thought life would start again immediately after chemo ended. Life after chemo doesn't start until the side effects end. So says I. Until then, chemo still rules my life.
It was three weeks yesterday since my last infusion. I felt good last week, but perhaps that was an emotional boost from knowing chemo was done. I started going to the wellness center to swim. Planned to do a yoga class there, too. I felt good. Optimistic.
I felt compelled to LIVE my life. Was suddenly weary of being at home, of dealing with the ins and outs of sucky cancer. Had a strong urge to walk on a beach, sit by the pool and read, have the sun on my face. To eat shrimp. To live.
Maybe I expected too much, but the crash occurred this week. I'm tired this week. The neuropathy will not go away. My feet have swollen to the point they are shiny and I can't get my shoes on. My vision is blurry. I'm teary. Mostly, I'm just freakin' tired.
No one told me about this. Oh, I knew the side effects would linger. Sometimes they linger for a long time. But I didn't expect to still be so impacted by the poison. I expected to feel a little better every day. I was thrilled I wasn't walking toward another smack down, better known as my next chemo infusion.
The problem here is that while I received excellent care from my oncologist, no one instructed me on what life would be like post-chemo. I almost forgot that I've been through two surgeries, two lesser procedures (traumatic nonetheless), and seven rounds of heavy duty chemo. All in the last six months. All while working full time, parenting my college-age son, and managing my household and my cocker spaniel. I've had a lot of support in that time, but the primary responsibility was still all mine.
Who do I think I am? Superwoman? I wasn't Superwoman BEFORE cancer. I just muddled through life as best I could, sometimes not very well and other times stunningly successful. Like every other woman on the planet.
What the heck makes me think I should be Superwoman NOW?
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