It may take more than one sitting to complete this post as lots of thoughts meander through my brain…
I have been reflecting a bit on recovery. It’s been a bit of a rude revelation. I knew that it would take a few weeks to get over chemo and that there was also the likelihood of some burning and fatigue from the radiation, but for some reason I had the idea in my head that by now I’d be full steam ahead. That is definitely not the case. It is a very slow process and not the linear incremental progression that I expected. I have good days when I almost feel like I’m back to normal, and then I slip back for a day or two – sometimes nausea, sometimes extreme tiredness, and sometimes, like yesterday, an irrational inability to do anything but the most essential tasks. If anyone asks me how I’m going, I can answer briefly but then I turn into an anti-social mute with no ability to elaborate on anything. And the aching legs at the end of the day…
That said, I had my review appointment with the oncologist on Thursday and he is happy with how I’m going. He also told me that it’s going to take some time for the effects of the chemotherapy to work it’s way out of my system. So, my expectations have been rather unrealistic.
I also had the port flushed on Thursday so that it doesn’t clot up. The great news about it is that the oncologist has given the okay for it to come out! I see the surgeon in a couple of weeks for my review with him and will discuss then when it can be removed. It’s definitely served it’s purpose and saved my veins but I cannot wait to see the back of it. On the other hand, it will be removed using only a local and I’m not feeling so good about that. The idea of being awake and aware while someone removes a device sewn into a major vein near my heart does not fill me with confidence.
2 DAYS LATER – I went for a walk first thing yesterday morning and as usual it also became a cerebral exercise. Everyone told me at the beginning that I should seek some sort of counselling (the mental effects of a breast cancer diagnosis is likened to having PTSD) but until a few weeks ago, I just wasn’t ready to talk to anybody. Of course, when I was, I couldn’t get into see anyone and, after weeks of getting nowhere, I was starting to feel rather desperate. However, the CFS came to the rescue with their SPAM service and I was able to make an appointment with a psychologist the very next day. Poor woman – I think she must have been wondering what struck her as I regurgitated a slew of thoughts and feelings about the last 9 months, but I’m hoping she’s used to it. I was pondering this as I was walking yesterday and it occurred to me that thoughts can be like a load of soggy washing in a clothes dryer – spinning around, tangling up but going nowhere fast. Seeing the psychologist is like having to take that heavy load of washing outside, shake things out and hang them on the line in the sunlight. Hopefully, I will get to the stage where I can take them off, fold them and put them away.
The other thought that came to me on my walk was about James and his walking ability. Last weekend he walked from our place, met up with the Heysen Trail over the ridge and walked almost to Castambul, along the other side of Kangaroo Creek Dam. I don’t know exactly how far that is but, although it’s mostly downhill, there’s a lot of hills to climb as you go. He got down to Montacute Reserve…then he walked back…uphill. I would love to do that (well, maybe not the return journey) but I wonder if I will ever be fit enough again. I think it was three years ago that he and I did the Pioneer Womens’ Trail from Hahndorf to Beaumont, which due to some track washouts at the end, was about 26km. Something to aim for, maybe.
So, they are my thoughts on the recovery process so far. It is happening but is not as straightforward as I thought it would be and positive thinking only takes you so far. I’m starting to really dislike the term “new normal” that seems to be the buzz word. I don’t know how to describe this sorting out business but new normal seems to trivialise things – a way to box it up and tie a bow on. Anyway, until the next exciting instalment…