Fairytale Trumps Fear

Ever heard the phrase, “you don’t go to the hospital to rest”? So true.  After each hospitalization for chemo, I’m exhausted. As with most hospitals, the only time a patient isn’t poked or prodded is between midnight and 4am.  If they’re lucky, they can sleep. I just remind myself I’ll sleep when I am discharged. LOL

When Discharge Day arrives, I am extremely relieved to be going back to Jenny’s house here in Texas. My back is always quite sore from climbing in and out of the hospital bed and from maneuvering about the hospital room with a walker, IV pole and oxygen line. My back surgery, which was performed in June, still causes some discomfort, understandably. Never one to baby myself, I carry on, hoping to strengthen muscles and to heal my back. Obviously, I am careful. Overdoing it only causes more pain.

Being back at Jenny’s is always a tremendous relief because I know I can relax, rest and recuperate from chemo.  Usually two days after discharge, I have an appointment to have my blood tested and to see my oncologist. I know it’s important but I hate that only two days after discharge, I have to go all the way back to MD Anderson.  It wouldn’t be a big deal if I were able-bodied and didn’t need the extremely uncomfortable wheelchair, or if my back wasn’t so sore, or that I’m so exhausted. With the strength of the chemo I’m receiving, I can guarantee my blood counts are too low and that I’ll need a blood transfusion to be followed with admission to the hospital for the next round of chemo.

This time around, I have extra time before chemo begins. For that, I am extremely grateful. The reaction I had to the high doses of Ifosfamide, one of my chemo meds, scared the hell out of me.  Think about it: when you wake up, unable to communicate with anyone and everything you know is completely opposite of actuality, it is freaky. Very scary. Bizarre-O World.

Monday, I return to MD Anderson for blood tests and a visit with my oncologist. Chemo will start that day, most likely. The plan is that I will still receive the Ifosfamide, but in a much smaller dose. I am supposed to be watched more closely this time, too. While I am relieved by this plan, I am still a bit scared. I need the Ifosfamide, without it, my chances for beating this are significantly diminished.  I need every bit of ammo in the arsenal.  Jenny is planning to stay by my side, too.

I think I’m scared because I really want to obliterate these tumors. I want them to die. I want to hear that we’re on the right track, I want to hear good news. I believe that if I was supposed to die, I would have done so before now.  I just really, really, really want to hear good news. If I were headed into chemo round 2 with good news, it would be a little easier.

Okay, so that’s not how it works.  So I guess I have to keep the faith and hang onto my “happily ever after”, as I call it.  I spent 7 years as a single parent, dating and hating it, before Fred and I realized we had more than a friendship.  The girls and I were thrilled to add Fred to our Girls Only Club and complete our family. My fairy tale had come true.

Two years of that happiness is not enough.  I want a LIFETIME of it.

Huh.

And there it is.

There’s the spark I needed to reignite my positivity.

All right, no more fear. Believe in the fairytale.  Believe it will come true. Believe all will be well.  Just believe.

Keep on praying, my Warrior Peeps/Kindergarten Crushers.  Thank you for your love and support. You’re the best!

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