I've heard from more than a few people that I'm behind in my blogging and they want to know what's going on with me.
In a word: Depression.
Maybe two words: Depression and Anxiety.
It's hard to write when I'm grumpy and bummed out. I want to lay on the couch and binge on sugar and hide from the world.
You might think it odd that facing the end of treatment can bring on these feelings, but there they are. Very typical end-of-treatment feelings. I've thought about it a lot, trying to get my mind around the reasons why I'm not (at least metaphorically) jumping up and down, bouncing off the walls, absolutely ecstatic to be nearly finished. The main thing that comes to mind? I'm scared shitless. I've had this routine, unpleasant though it might be, and guidance from doctors as to what to do and how to do it. Now I'm going to be on my own. No one will be watching (what if the cancer comes back?) and besides that, I have to somehow pick up the pieces of the life that imploded last April. I have to put them back together but they don't fit. Everything is different. I'm having some cognitive impairment (chemo brain) issues that concern me. My energy level is unpredictable and I have a huge amount of fear that it will never return to normal. I'm a moody bitch more often than I'd like to admit. Oh it's fun to be me right now.
Radiation officially finishes this Friday. On Monday I'll meet with my chemo doc to talk about hormone therapy. I know to expect the side effects from radiation to kick my butt for another couple of weeks and then I should start to see gradual improvement. I'll be slowly starting back to work (which is a very daunting thought on so many levels.) Meal delivery will stop. Hair is growing. I would imagine most people think I should be back to living at 100% very soon. Right now it all seems quite insurmountable.
I'm flailing, folks. I'm not good at just letting things fall into place. I want to know what my post-cancer treatment life looks like RIGHT NOW. I want to know that I'll be able to cope with the demands of this new, real life. I'm scared that I won't be able to keep up. Yes, these are normal end-of-treatment feelings, but knowing that doesn't make it any easier: I'm still depressed and anxious because of these feelings. I'm still afraid cancer's going to come back when no one's paying attention. Is it any wonder all I want to do is lay on the couch, cover my head and eat cookies in the dark?
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7 comments:
Oh sweetie, I understand every word you’re saying. You’re right, the feelings are normal. And…you’re right; it doesn’t make it any better to hear that line. I wish I could make it all better, I truly do. It’s like we were discussing last week: our circumstances in life changed us and we don’t like it, but they did. I came across this quote this morning by one of my favorite authors, not sure if it will make you feel better or not, but it did me: "When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change.” (Paulo Coelho) I’m not feeling the most courageous right now and neither are you. I’m with you on the sitting on the couch eating cookies in the dark. I’ve been there all week. And it sucks. And I wish you weren't going through this.
I love you, my friend!
I understand what you're feeling right now. Picking up the pieces of a life that has changed in such a profound way is scary. Lots of cleansing breaths and taking it one thing at a time can help make it not quite so overwhelming. You will do a fantastic job of it.
Of course you are scared, its a big old "now what" kind of thing. Not for nothing tho, what exactly is wrong with spending a little time on the couch, eating cookies in the dark? You get one night to do that, go ahead. The world wont stop. THEN, brush off the crumbs and on to the next, even if the next is just driving the kids to school. Its a process, not an event. Do a little, do a little more, before you know it, you're done. OK, Im hearing "just what makes that little old ant" song in my head now, so Ill stop with the pep talk. Ive no reason to believe you wont come thru this. You will. Will you be the same? Heck no. But thats OK. Back in April you couldnt even conceive of being this far. And here you is.
Oh, and a suggestion for the couch? Bring enough cookies for FB. Betcha it turns out goooood.
Love you!
Brenda
Yvette gave me your blog site and I just wanted to offer you a big cyber(HUG!). I can't relate to your experience first hand but have so many friends who have gone thru and are going thru what you are dealing with. just wanted you to know from here in Cincinnati, I'm thinking of you!!! Melissa
And the total bitch of the deal? Most antidepressants, as I understand it, may interfere with tamoxifen metabolism. Oh right, this is supposed to be a cheer-you-up note. Sorry. So, exercise, endorphins and deep relaxing seem to be our main option. With the post-chemo,post-rads fatigue my answer to that was: yeah right. Not now, but someday. Ok, clearly I'm joining you in the general grumpiness. Maybe it's therapeutic to stomp around a little? I personally am giving up on the oh-it's-supposed-to-be-rosy picture. (And the funny thing about that is - I think it's a good thing. Not to get all religious on you, but somehow when I "give it up to God" it all gets better). Life is suffering....stomp, stomp, stomp. On the bright side, I make a mean oatmeal-raisin cookie :). Might just have to bring some over!
The only other thought that makes me a little bit happy these days is: Hawaii. Other than that, finishing rads is like descending into this great huge pit.
BTW, the exercise program through Cancer Care resources provides post-treatment structure, and there's an oncology nurse on duty as part of the class every few weeks. She's held my hand on feeling crummy more than once. And it's free.
Oh wow LAM, I never realized that at the end of treatment you would be scared. I always assumed that everything would be normal again. That's why I love your blog. It makes me see things from the "inside." Things my Dad never expressed because well, he was a man. LOL
Congrats on finishing treatment today though! I'm SO SO excited for you! NOLA next Spring right? YAY!
Love ya lots!
I know what you mean. I am approaching the end of my treatment and there are such weird feelings around now. Everyone is shouting: "It's your last chemo! Yeah!" And I just look at them and don't know what to say. I feel like I still have to survive this last chemo before I can start celebrating. And I need my energy level back. And I need to be able to do what I was able to do before I got my diagnosis in April. We'll be ok. But many won't understand what we are going through right now. But we do and that's good enough.
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