The Eye of the Hurricane

Chemo is a lot like a hurricane. A hurricane takes a toll on everyone in its path. You prepare as much as you possibly can beforehand. You board up windows and doors as a barrier between you and the storm. You stock up on food and water to keep your health up during the storm and the aftermath. You stock up on batteries, candles, and flashlights so you can see your way through the darkness during the inevitable power outage. Have you prepared enough? Are you ready to ride this storm out? Worries and fears set in mixed with readiness and preparation; now, it is just a waiting game.

The hurricane hits and it is too late to change your mind. Should you have run? Should you have hidden? It is too late because you cannot leave now. For better or worse, you are in this. The wind and rain pound your barriers over and over and over again. Sometimes a window breaks and the wind and rain find the weak spot and attack. You try to patch it up and block it with another barrier. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the wind is too strong. So, you have retreat to another room with the barriers still in tact. If you are lucky, you stay safe and ride it out calmly. If you are not one of the lucky ones, you may have a tree break and fall on your shelter. Then, there is a big hole in your barrier. You just never know if you are going to be one of the safe ones or one of the ones who has to fight through the hurricane. 

Finally, the eye of the storm is upon you. A break in the storm. You step outside, dig deep, and find what you need around your house to fix and patch the holes. There is a calmness that sets in and it feels good. You have changed your strategy and strengthened your barrier and you are hopeful that you will survive. There is even a bit of sunshine to make you feel warm. You can exhale and breathe normal again for a moment. You are feeling rejuvenated and stronger. This is what you needed because your barrier was cracking and you were ready to give up. But, the peace and quiet from the eye only lasts a little while. Soon, the clouds start to spin again overhead, the wind picks up a little, and you realize that the second part of the storm is coming fast. It is time to go back inside, hunker down, and wait out the rest of the storm.

The second half of the hurricane is deceitful and tricky. It seems a bit calmer than the first half. It is less windy and you find yourself getting a little complacent. Maybe this is not so bad. But, for the unfortunate ones, it turns out to be silent, but deadly . During some hurricanes, the tide is high and the flood waters start to creep into your neighborhood. As the water rises, you have to change your plans or you will drown. You feel overwhelmed and scared, but you know you have to fight. You are one of the unlucky ones who has to fight for your survival with everything you have in your stockpile. You fight to keep the flood waters from breaking your barriers. The water keeps coming, but you fight to get to higher ground. You fight to survive. You fight to live. 

At last, the hurricane is over. The wind and rain are finally gone. The flood waters have receded. The animals are back; the birds are chirping. The sun shines like it never has before. You go outside, hold your arms out wide, and spin, just enjoying the moment. You assess the damage and see what is left. It is time to clean up the damage, pick up the pieces, and rebuild. There is a lot of hard work ahead of you, but that is okay. Why? Because, you made it. You survived. You lived. You are a survivor. You are alive and healthy. You beat the hurricane....and it feels great.

So, how does this relate to cancer and my chemo treatment? You just have to read my other blog entries to see that I have already survived the first part of the hurricane and did as much preparation as I could. Where am I now? Currently, I am in the eye of the storm. But, the clouds are coming back quickly and the winds are picking up. I'm not sure how the second half of the storm is going to affect me. I believe it will happen just like my little story above. I will have to fight hard, but I will get through it. And, I will spin with my arms open wide like nobody's business when this is over. But, like I said, for now I am in the eye of the hurricane.

The Eye of the Storm.

I was supposed to have chemo #3 on Friday, August 23rd. But, that did not happen. I was too sick with my bronchitis and the doctor ordered more fluids, antibiotics, steroids, and anti-nausea meds. As you might expect, he was pretty upset that he had not been informed of my condition. I had called repeatedly and was even in the building for blood work and no one did anything to help. No one returned my calls even though I left messages stating that my doctor wanted to be informed of any more sickness on my end. The day I went in for blood work, a nurse practitioner came out and told me there was nothing they could do and if I wasn't better, I needed to follow up with my general physician. So, my very angry oncologist (I'm sure the nurses got an ear full) gave me my fluids, etc., sent me home with directions to call him directly (on his personal cell) if I get worse, and postponed my chemo for two weeks.

These two weeks have seen me getting better slowly. I slowly got an appetite back, got my taste buds back, and stopped getting nauseous. My hair has even started to grow back during this break from chemo. I have more energy, less pain, and, I dare say, I almost feel well. But, here is the problem...this is just a tease. I feel better just in time (three days before) to begin chemo again. And, instead of being half way through, I am still only a third of the way through with the 'nasty' chemo. This has been a nice calm and my body definitely needed it. I am not sure that my mind needed it, though. There are positives and negatives about this lull. I was feeling pretty down and this gave me time to rebuild my inner strength. But, now I am worried about the fact that I still have over half of my treatment left and concerned about how horrible it is going to be if the first third was this bad. I don't know. 

All I do know is that I am as ready as I am going to be for the rest of this battle. We have changed tactics and plans and prepared differently for the next session. My oncologist is scheduling me to get fluids, anti-nausea meds, and steroids twice a week the first week after chemo. Hopefully, this will keep my nausea down to a minimum and allow me to actually function and not get so sick. I feel rested and stronger and ready to fight. This would not have happened without my bronchitis and this break. So, I go for Chemo #3 on Friday, September 6th. And, I am as ready as I can be for this second half. I am ready to fight, to head to higher ground, to survive. I am ready to live.