Saturday, September 3, 2011

Can I get off this ride now?

I went to get my pump disconnected yesterday, and I cried all the way to the cancer center.  The chemo I did Wednesday was #12, the chemo I was going to skip when my scan came back looking good, and I was looking forward to maintenance chemo.  We all know it didn't happen that way.  So I cried.  Sometimes you have to mourn when your plans don't come through the way you want.

After blowing my nose and wiping my eyes, I went into the cancer center.  The nurse called me back, flushed my port, gave me a shot, then asked if I had any questions or concerns.

"Well, I do have this rash..." as I showed him my tattoo area.

Guys, it looks like my tattoo lady has lepresy or something.  It looks TERRIBLE.  I'm not even going to take a picture, but trust me on this one, it's gross.  The nurse's eyes got wide and he said, "I'm going to have to call upstairs on this one."

So my doc's PA came down to look at it and said it was probably irritation from the tattoo.

All right, so getting a tat during treatment wasn't my best idea ever.

I cried some more, explaining that I'd had a bad scan chat with the doc Wednesday and freaked out.  Then I got the tattoo on Friday.  They didn't yell at me or anything, I was feeling overwhelmed anyway.  The PA called in a prescription for cipro, and I'm putting neosporin on the area.  It will most likely be fine.

That's just like cancer though, fucking everything up.

The PA talked to me for a little bit, saying positive things about Avastin and empathizing with me as best she could.  I appreciated that.

On the way home, I felt better.

Sometimes I feel so angry that this is happening.  It's not fair to my family, to me.  We've been dealing with this for almost two years now.  I'm tired.  I will admit that I spent about a week and a half (well, since we got the scan results) moping, feeling sorry for myself, and eating more oreos.  I think I drank about a gallon of sweet tea, possibly two.  No, I'm not joking. 

However, I've decided this silly stuff has to stop.  Feeling sorry for myself isn't helping me.  Worrying isn't helping me.  Anger isn't helping me.  It's sure not helping my family either.  So I'm going to clean it up and pull myself out of this funk.  I have one more chemo here in Columbus.  I'm going to be meeting a new doctor, a doctor who specializes in colorectal cancer.  I can do the things I need to do.

Do I still want off this ride?  Uh, YES.  But while I'm still on it, I can learn to roll with things. You can't always choose your circumstances, but you can choose how to handle it. 

1 comment:

  1. Hi Sheri - this is your Grandma Margaret. I'm here in Portland for Gabe's wedding. Patti showed me how to get on your blog, so I read it from last Friday, and feel that you are the strongest young lady I've ever heard of!! It's all going to clear up, one of these days real soon. Pray for you daily - Love, Grandma