An Early Christmas Gift (Post #39)
It feels surreal. Ken and I were in Hinton for his usual monthly clinic last week, and as I unpacked today I looked at my Maxeran and Morphine, both of which have been very dear friends to me over the past 4 months, and realized that I was done with them. No longer will my watch alarm chime annoyingly at 7:00am, 11:00am, 3:00pm, 7:00pm, 11:00pm, and 3:00 am to remind me to take them. (Yes, I forgot if the alarm didn't sound.) No more Tylenol and Robaxin at 10:00am, 4:00pm, 10:00pm, and 4:00am anymore either. I feel seriously emancipated!
To be off all post-chemo medications this early after an infusion is nothing less than a gift from God. The last round was remarkably boring. Oh, I had my days of brain fog, where I slept more than I was awake, and I certainly didn't feel "well," but I also didn't throw up this round! This is highly unusual for me, as this side effect had previously adhered to the cumulative effect rule, with certain side effects becoming worse with each passing round. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that I wasn't nauseated, I actually went through much more anti-emetic (anti-throw up) drugs this round than any other. I also still get random nausea attacks, which is great for weight control...not so much for nutrition. Mind you, food still tastes gross, which is super disappointing. I am so ready for some Christmas goodies, but at this point, they all taste like salty dirt. The 20 pounds I lost may be gone for a while if this keeps up!
One of the biggest issues since beginning this journey is how my singing voice has been affected. If you know me at all, you know how important music is to me. During times of forced vocal rest, (due to improper singing technique or a simple cold - my voice teacher was ruthless!) I would often catch myself inadvertently singing under my breath...oops. So when I did a bit of research regarding the effects of chemo on a person's voice, I was mightily dismayed to read the following:
Chemotherapeutic agents that are neurotoxic, such as paclitaxel, have the potential to damage the nerves that innervate the muscles of the larynx or those involved in support of the voice, such as the nerves that innervate the diaphragm or intercostal muscles. Nerve damage can lead to irreversible changes in vocal range and power, as well as the inability to precisely control the pitch required for performance.
The portion I italicized has been my greatest complaint. I don't have perfect pitch, but I do have a "sensitive pitch," meaning that anything slightly off-tune gives me physical pain. And yes, I just made up the term "sensitive pitch." So I'm praying that this is just temporary, as my favorite method of worship is singing; praying in public just turns on the tear taps!
So am I back to being the pre-chemo Heather? Honestly? She doesn't exist anymore. There are certainly vestiges of my former self, but a near-death experience and battle with cancer change a person, not to mention hormonal changes brought on by chemo. Oh, they're not all bad differences, I've become much more aware of the frailty of life and am much, much more grateful for all I have. These changes are physical, emotional, and definitely spiritual.
Physically, I'm supposed to give myself 6 months to overcome most of the lingering side effects of chemo. I can hardly wait to not have a nose that randomly starts running, and I mean running. I also won't miss having eyes so dry that blinking feels like bad wipers on the windshield. Ironically, this brings on so much tearing that people think I'm constantly crying. Actually, it's the whole body dryness that I won't miss; peeling, scaly skin is not comfortable. I also look forward to full eyebrows and eyelashes. Thankfully, mine didn't completely desert me, but their ranks have become slim indeed. Certain physical effects will likely stay with me forever, such as my worsened Restless Legs Syndrome. (My legs are getting super toned due to my nightly workouts! Alas, sleep is preferred to a thigh gap...) I've also been keeping Lactaid in business, as I am extremely lactose intolerant. I'm scared to even think about eating a piece of ch****! Every morning I awaken feeling like a million bucks, but by noon my energy has tanked and I'm reminded that my body is recovering from being regularly poisoned for 4 months. I find this extremely frustrating, as there are moments when I feel wonderful, but my need for breaks remains an exercise in patience.
Emotionally, I have much for which to be thankful. Hmmm, I just realized that it's impossible to separate the emotional and spiritual changes I've experienced. Cancer does more than invade your tissue, it also invades your mind. Never again will I take a simple lump for granted, and my awareness of my penchant for melanoma has also been heightened. While I'm not obsessed with the stats of my long-term prognosis, (which are terrific) I am aware that cancer is my lifelong enemy. Thankfully, my faith is stronger than fear, and whenever God calls me home, I'll be ready, though I'm hoping for another 40 years, at least! If you thought I was a crier before, prepare to get wet. It doesn't take much to turn on the taps. I choked up while vacuuming earlier today, overcome with joy that I was alive to vacuum. I know, that's weird. I knew it was weird even as I was experiencing it! However, it's not all kittens and rainbows. I lost it the other day after realizing that I'd packed too much into my day and someone else would have to pick up my online grocery order since I wasn't feeling well enough to drive. I hate being a burden! And don't even get me started on the goodness of God unless you have a towel handy. Yes, I still believe God is good. (And yes, I'm already sniffling...it's okay, a Kleenex is close.) But didn't He allow me to get cancer? Or even give it to me? That's a (heavy) topic for another day, but yes, you could say that as a sovereign God He could have prevented the drama of the past 7 months. But as difficult as the journey has been, the benefits still outweigh the negatives. Don't worry, I plan to explain what I mean in a future post.
So now it's Christmas week, and the family is together once again. It feels so good to be under one roof again! As I take time to reflect on the real reason for the season, I'm struck by one thought in particular. If I had known what was awaiting me the day of my surgery, would I have walked in the Cross so cheerfully? Or would I have dragged my heels and tried to think up excuses? Yet God sent His Son to this Earth without hesitation. That's how much he loved us. What a gift!
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