The docs all said chemo would get harder each time. So after #1 was fine, and #2 was tougher, I was expecting #3 to be a rough trot. But the first two days I felt fine – no nausea, plenty of energy, no headache, and nothing to really complain about. Somewhat surprised, I held off the blog in case the worst was yet to come.
Wednesday and Thursday came and went, still not that bad, and by Friday I was thinking “we’re onto a winner here!” as I still felt ok. In fact, I felt that good on Friday, I went out for long walk, went to the supermarket, twice (having forgotten half my list the first time), and did a whole heap of jobs before heading off to Schiphol to collect my Yorkie mates who were coming to Amsterdam for the weekend.
“So how are you doing? You look really well!” they told me, and I smugly explained how this week hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as I’d expected! We went out for dinner, I went off home happy, and even managed to polish off the Fat Rascal they’d brought over for me from Betty’s. Chemo 3? Tougher? Na…
Then came Saturday. I think? I didn’t see much of it. Perhaps the shortest day I’ve ever been up. Yep, chemo #3 hit me on Saturday, both barrels. Having had no energy all day, I finally surfaced at 6:30 with the sole objective of just doing something, anything, to ‘earn’ my dinner! So I walked down the road to meet the Yorkies (who’d been exploring all day), had some tapas with them, then left them to explore the nightlife while I came home and went back to bed. I think I was up for around 4 or 5 hours?!
Joking aside, for once in my life I’m doing as I’m told; listening to my body and when it says “stop” I’m stopping. I don’t like it, but if I don’t listen, I won’t have the strength to stand the chemo, my immune system won’t have the clout to fight off infection, and I won’t have the energy to recharge in week 2. So like it or not, I’m just biding my time until the fatigue subsides – lulling the monster into a false sense of security, ready to hit back strong next week.
On Thursday, I’m seeing the doc again for another checkup, and hoping she’ll say the words I want to hear just one more time before Christmas: “yep, you’re good to go again!” That’ll be the green light for chemo #4, the last hit of AC, the last of the nasty ones. It’ll mean I’ve nailed the first round without any holdups, showed cancer we’re tougher, fought back not hard but harder, and got to Christmas without any complications. That would be the BEST Christmas present ever 🙂
In the meantime, today is Sunday and I’m already bouncing back from Saturdoom – I’m up and about, meeting the guys for pasta in an hour and feeling positive and ready for recovery week.
Even on the tough days… cancer, you hit like a wuss 😉