Hopeful homestretch

I had to re-read my last post to see where I left off. Sorry about the vent-fest. There are definitely really bad days in all of this. And really good days. And honestly, I’ve been so incredibly lucky that my good days generally outweigh my bad days. But they’re there. And they suck. A lot. And unfortunately it’s those days that I feel like I need an outlet, even though there were great days all around it.

I think Robert ends up seeing a lot that most people don’t – every single up and down and every bad day, he’s on the front lines. He does everything he can to make the bad days good and I’m eternally grateful to feel so taken care of in a time where people typically feel the most alone.

The other day I ended up buying a new car (to SAVE money. The payment on my car was insane). We got into a discussion with the sales guy about why I was reducing monthly payments. The conversation turned into Robert going on to this random man about how I’m such an amazingly strong woman and I don’t even know it. And that’s when I cried in a car dealership. 😅

After we left, I asked what he meant by all that. Because I certainly don’t feel strong when I’m crying as much as I have. And he said, “you’re the strongest woman I know. Because you have your bad days, but you pick back up the next day and start fresh every time. You don’t let yourself stay like that. You turn it around. That’s why you’re strong.”

(And I needed to hear that more than you know)

Since then…

I’ve had a lot of extra body pain lately. Complete stiffness, back pain, leg pain and a really tender, sore scalp.

I still have to slowly stand up because I’ll get a shooting burning pain through my abdomen where my hysterectomy was if I go too fast. One in every five times standing up results in me keeling over in pain and falling back into position.

I officially lost my eyelashes over the weekend. I held on to them for so long. I think the reason it hits me so hard isn’t vanity, but reality. People don’t have hair on their heads for all sorts of reasons. Some have just chosen that look for themselves (which means it probably looks good on them). And even when it’s not a choice, you can put a wig on and the general public doesn’t really know the difference unless they’re five inches from your face staring at your hairline.

But you lose your lashes…. well…now you’re a cancer patient. It’s like I was in a boat filling with water, and I’ve been able to keep afloat using buckets and frantically removing the water. But I can’t keep up now, and the boat is officially sinking. 🛶

You look at my face and you just know. It’s a telltale sign, and I think it’s an inevitable one that I’ve been avoiding. But here we are, and I’m going to make the best of it, because there’s no use being upset over something I can’t control (as much as I want to control it). At least the hair from my wig doesn’t get stuck in my lashes now. There are always silver linings.

Almost Done

Less than two weeks until my final chemo in my treatment plan.

October 6th is probably going to be the biggest milestone in my life and I don’t think I’ve looked this forward to a crappy day since the last Bills divisional playoff game.

9 days and counting…