Right, so this week the little monster has been fighting me on both levels – physical and mental.
On Sunday I was feeling weak (mentally). The little things were getting to me and I was letting them. I didn’t feel like I’d recovered enough to run or train, and it felt like I was going into the last round on half a tank, without my usual energy and fight. Not a good start to the week.
But there was no way I was giving up – like I said in an earlier post, I don’t need a knockout punch, I just need to go the distance. So however lousy I was feeling, I just needed to keep going and get through the last week.
Well today is Saturday, typically my worst day, and this morning I cried for the first time. Why? Because my bed fell apart. Yes really! It wasn’t anything major, just a screw that needed tightening to keep the headboard in place. But it wasn’t really that; it was the fact that I couldn’t fix it myself. I felt useless. I didn’t even have the energy to lift a small piece of wood back into place. It’s not even heavy. It’s just a two-man job (to wiggle it into place) and typically I’d have figured out a way to do that on my own, because that’s what I do. I’d have wedged one side against the wall or something. But I just didn’t have the mental strength to figure out a way how, and didn’t have the physical strength to lift the piece of wood off the floor. So instead I just picked up a pillow and cried into it.
Aaaaaaand then it all came out. I’m sick of having no energy. I want to exercise because that gives me my buzz, and my strength. But I haven’t the energy to exercise. So I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Which is sapping my positivity. I’m sick of feeling full of cold. If I blow my nose one more time I’ll scream. I’m tired of clock-watching – to see if I can have my next dose of paracetamol to kick this faffing headache, to see if it’s time to eat again, to see if it’s time to go back to bed yet, because I can’t do much else… Grrrrrr!
After a few minutes, I had a text from a friend asking “How are you doing today?” to which I replied “Shit. Angry. Fighting [monster emoji]”. Obviously I hit send, obviously I wished I hadn’t, obviously I felt guilty straight away! But sometimes sense escapes us and emotion takes over, right?
But sometimes it needs to, just to release the frustration and, after an apologetic phone call to said friend, I felt much better!
I texted Lance to see if he could come to the rescue and help me fix my bed (he’s now on his way) and went back into productivity mode… windows open, music on, housework done, and I reminded myself that I’m not utterly useless! I do still have energy to do things, just not all the things I’d like to do right now. And it’s Saturday, this is always my worst day, right? So tomorrow will be better. And after that, the AC chemo will be OUT OF MY SYSTEM! Based on the last week or so, I might need a few extra days to recover, but I’ll have gone the distance. It might take me longer to get up from the last punch, but it’s not a knockout.
I’ve booked in to train on Wednesday – no idea if I’ll have the energy to do anything, but even if all I do is get my kit on and do an hour’s stretching, it’ll give me a buzz and take me into Christmas with the mental strength I need, to remind myself that I beat it in round one, and give me the focus I need to recharge, reset and get ready for the second phase of chemo in January.
So come on Boxy, you’ve got this. Cycle four is shit, it tougher, you’ve got the chemo and a cold to fight off, but your body is holding strong (even if your bed’s not!) Just another day or two and you’ll be into recovery.
Start strong, finish stronger. Almost there…!