I went into this dragging my emotional feet. I did NOT want
to take these heavy-duty drugs again that compromise my mental state and make me
feel utterly crappy. Nonetheless, last Friday, I was in the infusion chair,
ready to receive the treatment that the doctor believes will give me two to
three more years of progression-free existence. When you break out in a rash,
have rampant fatigue, and hate the sight, smell and thought of food, thinking, “2-3
years. 2-3 years. 2-3 years,” is not necessarily the motivator you’d think it
would be.
I’m several days out from my infusion and I still feel like
crap.
I’m guessing that once I’m done with it and (if) I get those
2-3 years, I’ll think it’s worth it. At this moment, I’m not so sure.
You were on my mind all weekend, Dearie. Sending warm, comforting, healing thoughts your way, Ruth.
ReplyDeletePeace,
k8