Friday, June 11, 2010

6-11-10

I am exhausted. I think I have been trying too hard to get "normal" now that chemo is done. I am barely a month after last chemo and I have been trying to work normal shifts at work, working out at the Y, doing my weight watchers thing, trying to get the house back in order after six months of neglect...I think I should have eased back into normal. The physical exhaustion plus the delayed mental reaction to the whole cancer thing as absolutely worn me out.

I don't really know what to do about it. I can't justify a nap in my mind, afterall, I am a month out of chemo, I shouldn't need naps anymore. It sucks being in my brain trying to talk myself into a nap when that other voice says, suck it up and go mow the yard.

I met my radiation oncologist, got my little dot tattoos, had another CT scan and will start the zapping next Wednesday. The nurse at the rads office wasn't quite buying my 'exercise made the PET scan show an area in my chest' theory, but that is going to continue to be my reality and in the back of my mind I will assume that the rads will fry anything bad going on in there.

The cancer shrink wants to talk about the cancer, imagine that! I need to cry, I am afraid I may explode if something to break soon. It is so hard to fit a mental breakdown into my schedule.

1 comment:

  1. Hi,

    I am the husband of a woman who has Stage III HER2+ bc, and was just looking through the sites and came across your blog.

    I just wanted to wish you well, & let you know there is something hauntingly familiar about your experiences. We've just completed chemo, mastectomy & radiation & have about 5 months of Herceptin to go, so we're not as far along. We have a 3 year old daughter who I imagine will be asking the same questions your kids have been asking in short order. I keep wondering how I'll keep it as normal for her as possible.

    For what it's worth, when my wife finished chemo she didn't feel right until about 6 weeks, the last two of which we spent on a beach before her surgery.

    Good luck, Ted

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