Today was my third day of radiation treatments. I’ve been struggling with what to say about it, because neither my gut nor my head have been right.
It takes about two months for the chemotherapy drugs to work their way out of my system. I’m only three weeks into that healing process but I had to start radiation anyway. That means I can’t tell why I’m feeling such intense gastrointestinal distress. Is it leftover from before, or something newly awful? If I don’t know, I’m unsure which oncology team to ask for help.
I’m also feeling very emotional: I think the stress and difficulty of the past six months is finally leaching out of me, too. I am tired of feeling tired, and well beyond tolerating feeling ill – in one way or another – each and every day. But I still have to power through. I’m not done yet, but I am done with the part of this process that is the most regimented.
I went into chemo armed with a handful of prescriptions, summaries of all the common side effects, and a firm grasp of overall timing. Each infusion would take a full day, followed by two days of respite, two days of lost time, and an additional eight to ten days of gradual improvement. I would receive, or take, specific combinations of medications during each of those stages. The mathematical precision of the process helped reassure and strengthen me in a very real way, even when I felt so sick and so hopeless I did not think I could function.
Now, thus far with radiation, I feel like I’m off in the weeds. I’m self-medicating with whatever amounts of gastrointestinal and anti-anxiety drugs I guesstimate I will need – and sometimes, like yesterday, I get it wrong. Last night I was up for hours with rolling cramps from too much Imodium. This morning, during the radiation treatment, I was nauseous and trembling from uncontrolled anxiety. Both of those experiences were so out-of-the-ordinary, when taken in context with everything else, that I didn’t know what to make of them or where to turn for advice.
It didn’t occur to me until this afternoon that part of me has been expecting to feel walloped by post-chemo side effects. According to that calendar, which I followed religiously for six months, the first day of radiation would have been equivalent to another infusion day … which would make today one of the really horrible days when I have no reliable strength or stamina. My conscious mind knows that I’m done with chemo, that the fog and neuropathy will not come over me again, and that I can get around and manage if I must. But my lizard brain doesn’t seem to have gotten that message; it’s been urging me to go home, lie down, and stay there.
The only way through this new challenge, that I can see tonight when I’m fed up, is to find new math. Neurologists and behaviorists say it takes about twenty days to create a new habit. If that’s the case, then it’s going to be seventeen-ish days before I get accustomed, so that’s my new target. I’m going to try to be kind to myself, to get as much sleep as I can, and find other ways to make this transition bearable. Right now, I just don’t know what else to do.
medicinal sausage 