For what seems like ages now I can’t seem to focus on any one thing. I have noticed that it’s getting a lot worse every day that we get closer to actually starting chemo. It’s almost like until they actually do the first IV infusion, I might get a phone call from the doc saying, “Oh! After the recent blood and scans we like your numbers” or “We decided this med will be a better option for your situation and, of course, less intense on your system.”
But the closer we get to the day (two more), I realize I am doing this. I AM doing this. I don’t know what “this” is, it may be nothing to me or I may be miserable, like when I was on Methotrexate shots. I DON’T KNOW!!! That’s the biggest problem really. I have a huge issue with dealing with unknowns. I’m a curiosity-kills-the-cat kinda gal. I need to know.
Half knowledge about something–especially my health, my own body–half knowledge is almost physically painful for me!
My therapist says it is totally normal for me to not really process what I am going through until I’ve had a few infusions and am actually coping with side-effects consistently.
Giving me this much time before it starts is evil, but also great. I really needed this window to get the chance to prepare for anything that might happen during my more intense course of treatments; however, getting this time is also giving me the chance to get my imagination going. Think creepy Twilight Zone theme music. I am, of course, giving myself the chance to think of the weirdest negative things ever. I don’t think it’s the typical fear stuff, at least not yet. I am probably blocking those fears still because they are too big. Instead I am choosing these ridiculous fears like the end of my social life and the failure to finish the hours of classes in the timeline I have built for myself. :/
These made-up possibilities that keep popping into my head throughout the day pass the time for me. The stories are sometimes positive and make me smile, but more often than not the ideas make me cry too (hormone shifts from the fertility procedures? or the fear that the reality makes dreams impossible?).
It’s the little bit of denial I’d like to think of as hope that I am hanging onto. Hanging on as the reality gets closer and closer by the day. Maybe I can just walk away and forget the appointment! So many fantasies I can create in my head. In the end, the reality is, that which I park my car in front of and unlock the front door to walk into.