Thursday, August 8, 2013
I am angry. My best friend Julie's dad was just diagnosed with mesothelioma. Based on his charts, he's probably had it for two years. Expected survival rate is about 18 months so he's already beaten the odds. Life expectancy from here on out is not good. He is in failing health. He has a hard time breathing. He hardly leaves the house because even getting up to go to the bathroom leaves him winded. Speaking is hard for him because it leaves him out of breath. Oxygen is of little to no relief. There is no relief. It is horrible.
As you can imagine, this is heartbreaking news. Jim is a great man. Interesting, funny, kind, generous and faithful. There are great men out there and Jim is, without a doubt, one of them.
Cancer SUCKS. It is horrible. Hearing the word "cancer" changes one forever in one second. Life will never be the same for us cancer warriors, nor will it ever be for our loved ones. Cancer is the personification of evil and to realize we have evil lurking right inside of our bodies is a very scary reality.
I've had two horrible fatigue days due to my dex-thalomide-velcade cocktail. I thought I'd skip it this week because Sunday (two days post injection) was a good day. But Monday and Tuesday were extreme. I realize that when I hit extreme fatigue days that I make really poor decisions. Monday was one of those days. I walked into Sephora with a friend. All I really wanted to do was go home and sleep but I was doing my best to fulfill my friendship duties. I walked out with a very large purchase that in hindsight was really dumb. But I wasn't thinking right. I couldn't. I'm not capable when I'm that fatigued.
Chemo fatigue is far different than simply being tired. Chemo fatigue is physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion to an unbelievable extreme. When I get it, my whole body buzzes and I have a hard time concentrating. An example: I pulled laundry out of the dryer and I stared at it for several minutes, unsure about what I should do next. One day I was getting ready for a doctor's appointment and I had to sit on my floor and think hard about what I was supposed to do to get dressed. I mean, down to "Ok, put on panties. Now bra. Yes, now pants. I need a top. Where is my top. Think. Oh, yes, closet. Look in closet." It was so hard. When I felt better, I lined up top-pant combos throughout my closet so next time it would be easier.
So here is my rant: Fuck you cancer. Fuck you cancer cells.