The Aftermath

By this time, I really thought I’d feel great.  Well, maybe not great, but at least better.  I’d be walking regularly, keeping the house clean, doing play dates, working 15-20 hours per week consistently and volunteering.  In other words, I’d be doing what I did before October 17, 2012.  Apparently, while the mind is more than willing, the body refuses to cooperate.

While I do keep up with the kitchen and bathrooms, I continue to have dust bunnies and piles of junk.  John and I walk when I’m up to it and I try to keep up with my videos, but neuropathy in my feet and calves often cause me to lay my best intentions aside.  Play dates, while more frequent, aren’t as often as the boys would like, mostly because I’m tired and just don’t feel like driving.  I try to work to help out with the bills, but chemo fog often makes writing difficult.  Volunteering, one of my favorite things in the world, is just hard when your body doesn’t cooperate.  I headed up a station at Cornerstone’s VBS a couple of weeks ago.  I had a blast, but my body rebelled for the next 6 days.

Neuropathy is probably my biggest enemy.  For those unfamiliar with this delightful condition, neuropathy is a constant numbness and tingling that is a side effect of Taxol (a strong chemotherapy drug).  Diabetics are also affected by this condition.  It generally attacks the feet and hands (my sweet sister in teal Lisa, has it up her entire leg).  Mine affects the toes of my right foot and my entire left foot all the time.  On bad days, my calves are affected and the outer sides of my knees.  Really bad days include delightful “electric shocks” that cause my feet to jerk.  John just loves those.  They tend to occur at night when I’m trying to get to sleep.  Despite my best attempts, the jerking keeps him awake.

My hands are also affected.  A surgery years ago, damaged the sensory nerve to one of the fingers in my right hand.  Now the fingertips of both hands are numb.  The joints in my hands always ache.  This is not good when you write for a living.  Nor is it helpful when you like to cook and relax by doing cross stitch (and you are desperately trying to finish a baby sampler for your great nephew before he turns 21.  He’s 7 weeks old now, but you get the idea). 

While these are annoying, the clincher is neuropathy of the large intestine.  Yep, your intestines can be affected by neuropathy.  Who knew (well, Lisa did. She’s my guru)?  Apparently, the nerves that tell your large intestine to move things along “go numb” like when you have a limb that “falls asleep.”  Nothing moves and you feel bloated, crampy and eventually get hit with nausea.  It’s delightful as a diet.

Now, you would think that my beloved oncologist would have warned me about this (and he truly is beloved in my eyes), but NO!  It’s a rare side effect and he’d hoped that I would avoid this particular one.  So much for hope, at least in this case.  So now, I have to tweak my diet yet again and deal with a delightful “cleanse” to get things moving.  I won’t bore you with the latter.  Let’s just say, I’m glad I have a large master bath that allows me to get comfy.

My diet, which I changed drastically to begin with, is now chocked with a minimum of 72 ounces of fluid (32 of which must be water at a minimum) daily.  I am still banning hormones, GMO, artificial sweeteners and soy, but now have to add more fiber in the form of vegetables and whole grains.  I was all ready doing this, but I have to bump it up even more. This is his PC way of saying, “Cut the junk food crap from your diet.”  If only chocolate was a high fiber food.  I all ready make my own breads, cook from scratch every night and have pretty much given up going out to eat because it’s a pain to find something I can eat.  I guess I’ll be going out for coffee, hold the desert.

I tend to forget that I had all of my abdominal muscles cut, all three layers, when I had my hysterectomy.  It will be 10 months on my hubby’s birthday next week.  However, those muscles take a LONG time to heal.  I insist on picking up heavy items, then pay for it later.  I only insist on it because I don’t hurt at the time.  Since I really need to lose weight, it’s probably worse.  My doctor has told me that if I don’t get some weight off that I’m a “hernia waiting to happen.”  Lovely.  Actually I have lost a couple of pounds with the neuropathy. 

My friend Cathy reminds me all the time that our bodies do not heal on our schedule.  She warned me in the spring that I would probably not feel good on a regular basis until the end of 2013.  While I was skeptical, I shouldn’t have been.  She’s been there.  She hit the proverbial nail straight on the head.  I should know better.

The aftermath is what it is.  Today I don’t feel so great.  I know I need to gear up to clean out.  I need to take care of myself.  I remember my dad saying the same things.  Do what you can when you feel great.  Rest when you don’t.  I’ve always been a slow study.

Everyone’s aftermath is different.  I am learning that there were things I used to do that are harder.  But a lot of things are easier.  I am more specific when I talk to God.  I am much more likely to say yes to playing games with the boys.  I spend more time journaling, even when my hands hurt, since it helps organize the chaos of my chemo brain.  I value spending time with my mom more than ever, particularly since she gave up so much to stay with me in the hospital and during my recovery.  Walks with John are sacred time.  I love visiting my mother-in-law.  She bent over backwards to take care of us long distance.  I don’t take anything for granted.  Nothing is guaranteed.  If that’s what I take away from the aftermath, then I think I’ve learned my lesson.

 

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