Yesterday was another round of chemo. Let me introduce myself to you by letting you know I am the epitome of a type A person. I like schedules. I very much enjoy my routines. I don’t welcome change. My doctors appointment was full of changes, I had to go in the morning vs. going late in the afternoon like I prefer. I had to see a different doctor because my oncologist was on vacation. So I kind of woke up on the wrong side of the bed to be honest, and my anxiety was on high. The lab tech/nurse that accessed my port that morning did an awful job, and it hurt like a bitcccchhhhhh. Which resulted in my crying in the lobby(remember, type A doesn’t like these new changes). I sat there sobbing while The Price is Right played and I tried to distract myself. Eventually I quit crying and got lost in the game show on tv. Little did I know a man was approaching me, where he put his hand on my leg(not in a creepy way), and looked me in the eyes and said something along the lines of “I don’t know what your story is, and it’s none of my business what you’re going through, but you’ll get through this”. I don’t know who he was, but I needed to hear that and thank you for taking the time out of your day to fill my glass. You are warm and you are beautiful.
(That water bottle is from a girl named Rachel. We met at my very first powerlifting meet. Her and all the people at her gym took me in for the day as I was lifting there solo and they were all so kind and helpful. The powerlifting community is really an incredibly thing I’m happy I became a part of)
The hospital was full, so I had to get chemo out in the public chairs instead of in a private room like I prefer. (cue another meltdown) The patient beside me had her daughter and I think husband/son? with her while she received chemo. The people with her irked every last fiber I had in me that day. They brought smelly bbq into the chemo room. They were really negative and talked about things I thought weren’t appropriate to discuss in a chemo room. Because of how sensitive I am to the chemo, I have to always get a shot of sustol in my stomach before I start treatment to keep me from violently puking. It’s awkward to lay in a chair in front of strangers and have them gawk at you as a very thick, painful needled is inserted into your stomach. The family to my side wouldn’t quit staring. I would try to ignore them, but they were so self absorbed they couldn’t even feel the awkwardness. I put on my headphones and played Incendiary’s Thousand Mile Stare album and read a book my boyfriend’s grandmother sent to me. I put the headphones on to drowned out the negative family to my right, and did the best I could to focus on the words on the pages. Turns out the book was just what I needed. I won’t even try to describe it because I know I won’t do it justice, so let me say that if you are someone who is battling breast cancer and you need resources that aren’t scary and negative and gross, go buy this book. It’s positive and uplifting but very informative. I call it my Rory Gilmore pros list. The list I make when I’m having a hard day and I need to remind myself of the positives in my life. This book is all about that too, she calls it Silver Linings. This is the cancer manual the hospitals need to give out.