Diagnosis: Afterparty

This week I’ve been getting a couple little daily reminders that I do in fact, have cancer. Apparently chemotherapy is not supposed to be an easy breezy walk in the park, and apparently I am not, in fact, made out of teflon.

Fatigue is starting to creep in a touch, small bouts of nausea that last for 5-10 minutes keep coming and going, chemo brain is becoming increasingly more frustrating, and I’m personally noticing how thin my hair is really getting. My husband says he can’t tell, and I know I promised myself I didn’t care about losing hair, but seeing it start to play out is reminding me that I actually have this disease. The fatigue and nausea aren’t enough to keep me down, but they too are constant reminders. Not to mention, being 5 rounds of chemo deep, the steroids aren’t giving me the manic high I was feeling the first few rounds. And the May 21 scans, with their definitive answers, feel so far away. My nutrition is also slowly falling away from the super healthy routine I built- and we all know what you eat affects your brain chemistry directly. It’s slowly starting feel like I actually have cancer, and I’m not just whimsically dancing from appointment to appointment. But the reality is that I’m not actually losing my edge; I’m just finally hitting my first chemo dip.

Zooming out, I’m going from early adrenaline and big wins, transitioning into treatment reality, waiting, and a bit of uncertainty. The first sprint is over, and it’s time to shift into endurance mode. Did I come out of the gates a little fast in this race? Probably, but I also think I did an excellent job setting myself up for this next phase: I’m hyper aware of everything I’m experiencing, so I’m luckily able to catch this dip before it collapses into an uncontrollable depression. One thing I’m immediately taking off my plate: watching The Pitt. Jimmy and I got into it recently, and I was excited since I’ve become so fascinated with the science of medicine- blithely unaware that the anxiety built into that show would amplify this growing gloom.

So, first things first: The Pitt has got to go. For now, at least. We’re still mid-season 1, and I absolutely need to find out what happens to the runaway ambulance, the kid with the girls-to-eliminate list, and the Kraken, but for now they’ll have to wait while I prioritize my mental health. No proximity to medical death, and certainly no cortisol spikes from blurring fiction with my reality.

Next up: putting the shoebox theory in place yet again. My CEA dropped VERY dramatically and VERY early. I’m still tolerating chemo VERY well all things considered; I have to remind myself I’m not immune to its effects. My running endurance is getting better and better, and each run continues to get faster and stronger. My oncologist literally said the word “remission.” My next chemo treatment will be the halfway mark! This is all happening in the now; there is nothing else I can do in this moment. Nothing in my data suggests things are going sideways. I’m okay. I’m MORE than okay, actually. Perhaps it will take a reframe for when the shoebox falls off the shelf, and a wave of nausea hits. Instead of reminding myself “I’m sick” or “I’m a sick person,” (Why am I even subconsciously telling myself that to begin with?? That is so rude of me) remembering that this little wave of nausea is my body actually letting the chemo do its job. It’s part of the healing, it’s not failure. 

After that, getting back to basics on nutrition. Filling, whole food and plant based FIRST, then perhaps a processed or sugary vegan treat later; not vice versa. And stop skipping my morning juice- that ginger probably was working overtime on the nausea front & the extra kick of vitamins surely was not hurting. Back to back Easters really threw me off my routine, but starting tomorrow back to the routine that got me through 5 rounds of chemo so easy breezy.

Overall, I just need to remind myself that I’m not backsliding; I’m experiencing the first real emotional variability after a VERY strong initial phase of chemo. My system is just adjusting, recalibrating, and preparing for the long game. I went from “everything is happening fast and working” to “now I have to wait and trust the process.” Take it from the girl who screamed “we got you a blue robe!” to my mom coming home from Christmas shopping with my dad when I was 5; waiting is not a strength of mine- even with patience built from years of endurance running.  I’m going to get through this, but not if I take my eyes off the prize for even one second and let habits and mental health backslide. However, if this is what my ‘low’ looks like right now; slightly tired, slightly nauseous, slightly dramatic over a TV show… I’ll take it. This is still a very good place to be.

And to stop worrying about this little funk right now, this very second? Well, luckily my oncologist prescribed me lorazepam to help me fall asleep if needed. I haven’t yet used it and I couldn’t be more sure this is the time. My nervous system needs some backup and this tool was given to me for this exact moment. If it worked for Victoria Ratliff in White Lotus, it’ll work for me. And luckily, I already took it before starting this blog entry. So it’s definitely kicked in and I’m already feeling silly for letting The Pitt get to me like this. Ready to get some sleep, and grateful in advance for getting to wake up tomorrow with another chance to fight and beat this thing. If nothing else, I’ve got two DJ gigs this weekend, which also function as scream-singing therapy sessions. And honestly, those are so much stronger than any chemo side effect.