The Next Book In My Series

I like to think of my life like a book series. Not all of the books have a positive ending. But you never know how the characters will figure out that next scenario until starting the next book. Well in my life so many things happen and I have to move on, walk away, shift goals, choice, options, hopes and dreams… but there’s always the next book.

I would like to think of restarting writing the blog and starting back up with my proper health plans, I’ll explain later, as starting this new book. But I feel like I need to somehow finish writing the last book. No matter now painful. More than that I am at a point where I need to actually be working through the damage done to me by my past in order to be healthy for the people in my life now.

But I don’t know where to even start. Not about the last book or even how to start writing about the first chapter of this part of my life. So it’s likely my posts will be erratic for awhile (disorganized)- while I figure out the flow of this again. Until then, I hope my unorganized thoughts help others as I figure out these experiences and how I’ve changed from them, through writing it down to you.

Talking to the Therapist About Health

I saw my therapist today. I missed y last two appointments. I didn’t realize how stressful that is for me at this point.

It’s amazing how people have a stigma about seeing a therapist. When their entire job is to listen to you and help you with your problems…

Question: Do some people not have problems?

Oh. I guess that’s a pretty rhetorical question isn’t it?

We all have problems, all different problems, but everyone has them. Who couldn’t benefit from a little help once a week with these problems? Sure we might be able to be just fine working it out on our own. But, why do that, when you don’t have to? Often the therapist can find a way that is much healthier than an individual would come up with on their own.


My therapist say it is normal for me to feel that this chemo and severity of the situation isn’t real yet. She was impressed with my ability to have arrived at that point on my own in such a short time.

Is This Nervousness?

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.