One Down Three To Go

Alright motherfucker’s shit has been real here.

This last week was crazy! Beginning with that suck ass early wake call-up rude bitch in our ears. Ending with my first of four chemo infusions. We were able to get together for a much overdue visit with family. Unfortunately I was feeling shitty & slept the better portion of the day away, but the boys had a good time.

This week I’ve felt all new feelings of pain and anxiety within my body and mind. It’s all so fucking crazy. And I swear this little power port fucker for chemo is going to crawl out of my body. It’s so goddamned foreign in there-der that’s why it’s being all stupid and shit. I seriously want to rip this bitch out.

Sleep has been crazy enough the past 48 days post masecto. With the port healing, sleep is even more uncomfortable.  Can you believe it’s been 48 days that I was under the knife and skilled hand of surgeons having my cancerous tit sliced off? I sure as fuck can’t believe it. I discovered the lump 90 days ago. 90 motherfucking days! If we were in Kindergarten, we’d be gearing up for our 100 day celebration of #badboob.

Though school is in session for 180 days, so why not mark the 90th day as the halfway point instead of day 100? Hmmm? Teachers please answer me this.

When they administer chemotherapy to you, you are instantly fed a new vocabulary and so many health hazards within the home. Holy fuckamorolee. The chemo is released by your fluids and waste. You are advised to stay away from meal prep of any sort for at least 48 hours after an infusion. It’s hardcore shit. How’s that for toxic thoughts?

They tell me I will feel a strange, explainable fatigue and not to fight it. Just lie down they say-ha right. That’s totally feasible with a five year old running a muck.  Good thing weather has been so gloomy, my sweet baboo loves cuddling in his sleeping bag with a hot mug of cocoa. Hopefully that course of action will prove successful over the next few days.

The thing with kids is that you’re sleep deprived from day one. Technically speaking, I’ve be deprived of sleep since 11/28/1994, so what’s another few months of deprivation, eh?

My chemo schedule is every 21 days, with my last one on April 8. Thinking in terms like that, it doesn’t seem too far away. Though I hear, from many people, that you don’t really know yourself until you go through chemo. You don’t know your strength or will. I’m determined as fuck to beat this shit right the fuck outta me.

By summertime my new tits should be installed and chemo will be an awful memory. In the meantime, I’m waiting for results to come back for my chances of ovarian cancer. I’ve just had new revelations into my family history, so it’s probably safe for me to assume I’ll need my lady bits ripped from my body too. We shall see.

Be kind. Love yourself. Love those around you.

 

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