Five chemo treatments down, one to go.
If my chemo regimen were a marathon, I'd be at about mile 22. I'm not a runner, but it doesn't take too much imagination to guess that at mile 22 one is tired. Very, very tired.
I think that going through chemo has a lot in common with running a marathon, except for that whole I-didn't-actually-want-to-do-this thing. Plus there's no souvenir t-shirt.
I feel relieved that there are 22 miles behind me, yet the final 4.2 miles loom in front of me and there's another really big hill to climb. So this week it's time to slow my pace, hydrate at the water station and gear up for the last push.
One big difference between my experience and running a marathon is that I'm doing this alone, not in a group of other runners. For a variety of reasons I deliberately decided against joining a support group of people going through cancer treatment. I don't regret that decision, but since I don't know anyone currently going doing what I'm doing, many parts of this journey have been lonely experiences.
On the one hand it's been very important to me to keep living my regular life as much as possible, and that's been really helpful. Doing normal things with normal people helps me feel normal, and feeling normal feels good.
Yet cancer treatment is an alternate universe that you have to be in to really understand, and it's an intense and highly emotional experience. In that way it feels similar to becoming a new mom. And when you're a new mom, it's affirming to meet other bleary-eyed, hormonally-challenged women who have suddenly become a food source and are thinking about the things you're thinking about, like what kind of pacifier to buy and how not to go completely crazy.
I think I've found a way to address my need for this new kind of community (women who are doing or have done the diagnosis/surgery/chemo/radiation/survival shebang) without committing to sitting around and talking about it a lot with strangers, and that's through exercise programs for survivors.
I've started going to a Qigong class offered by a local cancer education and resource center and I've joined a group that offers all kinds of different fitness opportunities (triathlon training, yoga, weight training, dragon boat racing, the works) to female cancer survivors, which I'll explore more after I'm done with radiation. These are free programs, which I'm very much appreciating.
In the meantime, "normal" life goes on. M. started high school and C. started middle school a couple of weeks ago, and emotions have been running high around here. B. is in a very busy time at work. I have clients to see, family and friends to keep in touch with, a dog to walk, and so on, just like you.
But I'm pacing myself, trying to rest when I need it (that's still extremely difficult for me!) and feel happy to be coming into the home stretch of this challenging race.
