What a Roller Coaster
If you've ever sat at the top of a roller coaster wondering why you willingly got in line, you'll have a pretty good idea of how this last week has felt.
Appointments. Tests. Blood draws. Education classes. More appointments. Future planning. Insurance conversations. And somewhere in between all of that...trying to keep up with work on the weekends because, apparently, life doesn't stop just because cancer decided to show up uninvited.
Set?
Well...fuck, I should be.
Honestly?
No.
I'm really not.
There seems to be an endless supply of information. Booklets. Handouts. Websites. Lists. All the things to prepare me to get on this ride. But somehow, I'm not set to do so.
I've learned about...
Chemotherapy schedules.
Medications.
Side effects.
Infection risks.
Foods to avoid (did you know you can't have grapefruit if you're going thru chemo?).
What to keep in my chemo bag.
When to call the doctor.
What my blood counts mean.
Why I might be freezing when it's 85 degrees outside.
Why my hair may decide to quietly resign from its position.
And about seventeen other things I didn't know existed a month ago (and oddly can't remember).
At some point I started wondering...
Is information really knowledge?
Or is it just our way of trying to make peace with something that can't really be controlled?
Because here's the truth: I can read every pamphlet they've handed me. I can highlight, underline, make notes, and organize everything into neat little folders.
But none of it tells me what my first treatment will feel like.
None of it tells me if I'll be scared walking through those doors.
None of it tells me how I'll react when I see that first strand of hair in my brush.
Or whether I'll laugh, cry, or do both at the same time.
I'm guessing all of the above.
I know the nurses know what they're doing. I trust my oncology team. I know there are medications for the side effects and people who genuinely care.
But there's still a difference between reading about the journey and actually taking the first step.
So here I am.
Not exactly ready.
Not remotely excited.
Definitely wishing this wasn't on my calendar.
But tomorrow—or whenever this next chapter officially begins—I'll show up anyway.
Because sometimes courage isn't feeling brave.
Sometimes courage is simply showing up when every fiber of your being would rather stay home under a blanket watching trashy TV and pretend none of this is happening.
Ready to Go?
No.
Willing?
Maybe.
And for today, that's going to have to be enough.
In the Spirit of Health & Wellness,
-Elizabeth
Add comment
Comments