When I had a high fever in March and made up my mind to go to the emergency room, I had no idea how that decision would change my world so drastically. As I write this post I realize how much everything has been reordered. The first two months after my surgery and subsequent healing went well. I assumed that life would return to me and the things I did before surgery would return.
Unfortunately, in May when I began ChemoTherapy, once again I had no idea how it would negatively affect me and what that meant for me. Now in September I can easily see that Chemo put an unwanted grip on me, forcing me to bed many days, still affecting me after its completion and realizing that the Avastin I am continuing to take brings with it some of the side affects that already have been with me.
The result of all of this is that I have not been able to do much at all during these many months. Sitting, or being in bed for days because of the side effects have left me worn, fatter than fat and skeptical of when I can ever be free of the drug side effects so I can start being me again. I worry also that once they go will the numbness and pain that remains at the surgical area ever go away and each day I feel my breathing will never be the same as it was. Huffing and puffing at times is standard now, although, it is better than having difficulty breathing for a full day. Thankfully that doesn’t happen that often.
So I think all of this has made me feel that I am now part of a club, one that doesn’t ask permission to enlist you and one that carries a nasty stigma that many people don’t understand. Regardless, if I am a survivor I will still be part of this same club, the C Club, the one that enlists you the day your cancer begins. It is not a pleasant reality. I bristle at the thought of being part of something that puts me in a group. I now live in a place and way that today and tomorrow is a question, particularly when I ask myself, “Has this all been worth it!”