Little by Little

Little by little.  Each day it gets a bit better.  Slowly but surely.  Give it time.  These are the things that I replay in my head everyday.  These are the things people have been saying to me for the last two weeks.  While I know these things are all valid and very true, at the moment they are being said or thought, it is very hard to believe.  The truth is, each day has been a bit easier.  On January 15th, I went to the hospital for my cancer surgery.  I was prepared-I packed extra pajamas, my travel case had my makeup, lotions, face creams, toothbrush, toothpaste and other essentials that I need daily.  I packed magazines, phone chargers and extra clothes for my trip home.  I was prepared-I knew the post op would be uncomfortable, maybe even a little painful.  I was prepared-I was going to wake up and feel positive about the future.  I was prepared-prepared to eat a huge meal right after the anesthesia wore off.  I hadn't eaten for 36 hours between the surgical prep drink (ugh-there are no words!!!) and the OR delays.

I thought I was prepared.  I woke up to a swollen face, a morphine drip to control the intense pain.  I woke up to find out I couldn't eat or drink for hours more.  I woke up to find out the 2 lymph nodes had been removed and the radical hysterectomy had been done as well.  I woke up to find out that one of the lymph nodes had been positive and that I would still need to have radiation.  I woke up to find out I had a catheter and would have a catheter for at least a week even after I would be discharged and sent home.

On January 16th, a doctor came in to check on me.  I woke up to terrible nausea, vomiting, pain, and barely the ability to walk.  I couldn't wash myself, let alone put on makeup or change into the pajamas I had packed as an alternative to a hospital gown.  The plan was to discharge me later that afternoon if I felt okay and had stopped vomiting.  I ended up not being discharged until Friday January 18th.  The days I spent in the hospital are a blur of visits by my oncologist, nurses, doctors I have never met before, and attendants.  The best visits were from Murph, who got there in the early afternoon and stayed until 8 pm when visiting hours ended and my Mom who came faithfully everyday after work and stayed until Murph left with her.  I spent most of those visits in a state of half consciousness or throwing up.

Home was not much different.  Without the constant visits from doctors and nurses, I was at least sleeping for more than 1 hour at a time.  Stina came home and was my nurse.  She tucked me in, brought me drinks, and just wanted to snuggle.  Matthew came home and tried to jump on me, but soon realized playing on the floor in front of me was much easier.  Just seeing him and hearing his voice made me feel better.  Murph made sure I took my pain meds, called the doctor for weird pains and bruising, made sure I didn't collapse in the shower, and took care of the minis.  I sat on the couch while life continued around me.  Amazingly enough, my most faithful nurse was a little black furry one.  Travis never left my side-whether I was in bed or on the couch.  That cat just sat there, watching me or sleeping against me.  He'd nudge my face or hand every so often, but mostly just curled up next to me.  Whether or not he knew, Travis was giving me what I needed most, a quiet comfort.

Travis-my furry nurse.  (his brother Francis seemed more afraid of me)

 

I cried in bed for a while each day.  I hated being in pain, I hated that I still had to go to radiation and even worse, now I also had to go to chemo.  I felt useless, hopeless, sad and pathetic.  Murph and my Mom talked me through my crying jags.  My sister and my Dad called and talked me through my low points.  I told Murph I would not do the treatments, that the surgery was enough.  He told me that I would change my mind and that skipping treatment was not even in my list of options.  Murph has been my rock.  He has put up with my horrendous mood swings and crying.  I feel bad because while everyone asks how I'm doing, most people don't remember to ask how he's doing and that includes me.  Even though he doesn't physically have cancer, he has the same cancer I have.  He has stayed strong through it all.  (I'd post his pic here too like the cat nurse, but he isn't the kind of guy that likes his pic all over the blog)

And suddenly, I woke up the other day and it wasn't as painful.  I had my catheter removed and it was even better.  I was sore, but not in intense pain.  I could walk a little easier.  I could help Stina pick out her clothes, even though it took me alot longer to get to her room.  I showered without feeling dizzy and I actually ate dinner-I was hungry for the first time in nearly two weeks.  I still cry everyday. but it is shorter and not as intense.  Now its because I'm a little scared of the chemo and the radiation and their side effects.  I'm still scared of what is going to come.

The truth is, I wasn't prepared.  As prepared as I told myself I was, I really had no idea what to expect.  Who knew my sensitivity to medication would be so intense.  Who knew I would not want to even brush my teeth or put on makeup or even get dressed.  Mostly though, I was unprepared for how much I would need to lean on Murph, my Mom, my sister, my Dad, my friends and my in laws.  The best part of my being unprepared was that they were all prepared.  They were all prepared to hug me, wash me, talk me off the ledge, and take care of my minis.  I'm not alone in this fight and thinking I was proved to be my biggest mistake before.  I was going to fight cancer.  I was going to be fine.  I know now...WE will fight my cancer and WE will all be fine!