My Humps.

Imagine me, slick bald, hugely pregnant, blaring the Black Eye Peas song "My Humps" while I type this.  Because as ironic as it is...the lyrics seem to work.

My lovely lady lumps
---
She's got me spendin'
Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
---
What you gon' do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I'ma make, make, make, make you work

Let's talk about the WORK shall we?  As the preparation for Chemo was happening, the cleaning, the poking, the prodding...I just thought for a minute, "I CAN'T DO THIS!!"  I don't want to do this.  I shouldn't be doing this. I got angry. I got weepy. I felt panicked. Anxious about the pain. Anxious about possible side effects. Then the needle was inserted into my port and I calmed down. It was literally an instant where I just felt so vulnerable and weak.  Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am.  I am so not strong at times.

I have to find the purpose that makes me move forward.  Thankfully I am pregnant so when I am having one of those down moments Peanut will kick me and wake me back up. Otherwise I do feel very alone at times. It's not possible to be with David all day. It's not possible for me to have enough energy to be with Abby all day.  I am pretty much on my own to be alone with my thoughts. I have the feelings I am sure must be "normal" for all cancer patients. I DO want to sit there and feel sorry for myself. I DO want to lie in bed all day.  I DO want to shrink away from reality.  I DO want to have a huge pity party for myself and cry and cry and cry.  Primarily I don't DO any of these things even though I want to.  Sure, if it really came down to it I could have a good cry but instead I feel like it is wasted energy.  I've always been a productive person and seriously, what's the use of tears at this point? Or feeling sorry for myself?  Why should I feel sorry for myself?  There are many things to be thankful for and THAT is what I must remember.

Back to the idea of work...this cancer is a lot of work. For me and everyone that cares about me.  For me, the cancer is a crazy regime and routine and the constant fear of the unknown.  For everyone that cares about me it is the same plus they are trying to figure out how best to help me even when I can't communicate what it is that I need.  I think we're all doing the best we know how and that is all that we can do.

The reaction from the 3rd round of Chemo was tolerable.  A couple new symptoms but still manageable.  Sunday I was on the phone with Dr. Daly and Dr. McAndrew's office trying to figure out something for my latest symptom that I won't bore you with. Basically, Chemo does a number on your GI system. After getting a Rx and using an ointment I was fine. I also had to do the mouth rinse this time because I got the receding gum line issue (but not actual mouth sores) again.

It was nice to get away for the weekend. Extremely important and rewarding to check in with David and have some alone time. As much as I hate to say it I cherished my time away not having to be "momma"; to just enjoy being a selfish adult. Sleeping in. Getting pampered at the spa. Going for walks hand in hand by the water. Indulging "smartly" in delicious food. Generally, doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and not having to negotiate, rationalize, or explain anything to an almost 2-year-old.  It was a nice little vacation even if we probably spent the majority of the time talking about and looking at pictures of Abby!