I wrote a mediocre post the other night, but felt like I just phoned it in, so I didn’t post. It was a lame recap of my day, and I was bored reading it, so I spared y’all.
Maybe it’s because I’m sick of Cancer and Chemo, but I became concerned that I was blogging too much about those “C-words.” I was afraid that it was irritating to some people (particularly my friends).
This morning I saw this in my Facebook newsfeed:
And I realized the truth behind it. I’ll never make everyone happy. And if I need to blog about the difficulties associated with Cancer and treatment, then I should. Because I’ll never make everyone like me. I’m not pizza, and let’s face it — pizza can’t even make everyone happy. Some poor soul on this earth would rather eat cardboard than pizza.
So, let me tell you honestly how I am feeling. Deflated. Defeated. Short-tempered. I talk to my body now (not out loud). “Really?! You’re tired after that?! You need to sleep again?!”
At my last visit, my CBC showed signs of Anemia. I thought that meant a little more tired. As it turns out, it means a lot more tired. Plus muscle weakness, brain fog, and more. Aches are getting more bothersome, too.
I won’t lie. The thought of 12 more weeks — every week — of chemo makes me want to punch things. I mean really punch things. Maybe throw a few things, too. Suddenly my body must sleep around 12 hours a night. And could use a nap during the day, too. The remedy for fatigue is exercise. Which is great, except that it’s finally gotten chilly here, so any motivation I have to go for a walk has pretty much diminished.
Plus, I might as well be pregnant with the bizarre cravings and aversions I have. Yesterday’s grocery list to hubs was as follows: pineapple, cucumbers, carrots, beef jerky, barbecue chips, and cookies-and-cream ice cream. Dinner tonight was beef jerky, carrots, and ice cream, with a nauseating experience of smelling hot oil while hubs cooked his steak. Oh, and a Manhattan that was poured for me at 6:00 that I am still trying to choke down (at 10:30 at night).
The worst part of this is that I hate that this is my attitude. Where is my smiling face? My gratefulness? My positivity? Today I realized that it’s still there … it’s just gotten buried by some annoying side effects of chemo.
Years ago, I met a couple — C & R. I thought they were the cutest couple on the face of the earth. They shared common goals, and their love for each other was second only to their love for our Heavenly Father. They are friends with my sister and her husband, but I think I only saw them once or twice before they moved to Ecuador to engage in full-time Bible teaching work. They keep in touch, though, via emails a few times a year and through Instagram.
This couple has gone through quite a lot. The wife, C, has always dealt with health issues, but I have watched the two of them over the years eat bugs, get really sick with amoebas, get pregnant and have a baby (now four or five) with dual-citizenship, and more. I love to read their emails and see their pictures. They are two of my spiritual heroes, especially C. She is all smiles in spite of a variety of health issues, including a new one that she mentioned in her latest group email (for which she always requests a response). Imagine my surprise, when I received this in reply to my response:
I wish I’ve written you more! I talk about you so much you wouldn’t believe!
You are my hero!
You are so positive and beautiful inside and out despite all you are going through. And LOVE your blog and your writing style!
This from the girl who is living in Ecuador and teaching people about God and his wonderful promises. This from the girl who is coping with multiple health issues in a foreign country. From the girl who is raising a ridiculously smart bilingual little boy.
And there it is. I found my positivity again. I realized that I can still be gracious and grateful. I can choose to be thankful to my Creator for support near and far. I can choose to be honest and truthful and to grow from this experience.
Whether or not I get sick of Chemo or others get tired of hearing me write about it, it’s my life right now. And I can choose to get stuck in the self-pity not-so-merry-go-round or I can work through the emotions. I can acknowledge my reality and how it makes me feel. And by acknowledging it and accepting it, I allow myself to grow. Grow in faith. Grow in experience. Grow in knowledge. That growth allows me to restore my grace. To put things in perspective.
Thank you to those who read loyally, even when I get long-winded and introspective and less than positive. And thank you to those who skimmed over this post, a little bored or irritated. Because you’re still reading and checking in. I’m not pizza, and I can’t make everyone happy, but I hope you’ll keep coming by.