So, my third round of chemo was an interesting one. It was most definitely the opposite experience of what my first two treatments were like, in an emotional way. Cue the waterworks.
If you read my previous post, you’ll know that the morning leading up to my treatment was not good. In fact, the evening before I was not great either. I could feel all the emotions bubbling up inside me, and I just could not control them. I couldn’t even rely on my usual tactics to push myself into a positive mindset.
It was the timing. And I cried. A lot. And I don’t cry, like ever. Black heart, remember?
My husband and I were on my way to the appointment for 2pm, and I started crying. One little thought… cry. Got it under control, another thought… cry. A little fight with the hubby, why not? Cry. WTF is happening to me. Cry.
I’m trying to get my shit together because I’m embarrassed. If I walk into the cancer centre crying everyone is going to be like ‘ohhh that poor girl is sad because she has cancer’ – which is one of the things I try to avoid and dislike very much – but I just couldn’t get it together.
I knew I was feeling anxiety, which is something I am not familiar with personally. My heart rate was up, I kept crying and I couldn’t control it… textbook anxiety. I wore my sunglasses in (dead giveaway) and was much quieter than usual while I waited for my appointment.
In the waiting room there was another younger woman, with a winter hat and heavy eyeliner (no hair) and I thought to myself ‘oh that poor woman has cancer too…’ SEE. I did exactly what I hate being done to me. Cue the tears haha… what is wrong with me?!
They call my name, the tears slowly keep coming, I sit in my chair… I just can’t even. The nurse sees me, and I tell her “Hey, I’m sorry, I keep crying and I don’t know why, I’m totally fine, this is embarrassing.” Obviously they feel sorry for me, but that the same time have totally dealt with worse. I just simply didn’t want to be there, and I was having a physical reaction to something I couldn’t use my rationality to control this time.
They access my port, which hurt. And made me cry… duh you should know there is a theme here by now. And then the nurse looks at me and says “Hun, do you want something to calm you down?” Oh great, I’m such a shit show they want to give me drugs. “What is it?” I ask, and she replies “Ativan, it’ll just take the edge off.” So, naturally I say yes, take it and wait. And cry. Jesus.
They start the chemo process, I’m trying to crack a couple jokes, my husband is trying to make small talk about vacations and things… and I’m talking, and laughing a bit, but still experiencing the watery eye syndrome. It’s totally ridiculous. The Ativan starts to set in, I feel more relaxed and eventually the emotions subside.
I even got a couple of pictures, because I knew I would look back and wish I had them. So, it’s my crybaby drugged up chemo look, what do you think?
The chemo went fast, and my shit was officially together after it was all over. Business as usual. I survived these things people call ‘emotions’ and hopefully it means I’m in the clear for a while!
