After 20 rounds of nuclear chemo my body is broken and I feel beaten by my cancer
LAST week I wasn't OK.
I'd had enough of the grim side effects of my nuclear chemo.
Twenty cycles has started to take its toll.
My nose bleeds just from breathing in the cold air, I sound like I'm housing a mucus production factory and my insides, oh my poor insides, they feel like norovirus has set up home.
'Right now, climbing Mount Everest seems the easy option'
I got to the point where even ordering Uber Eats was too much.
When your ability to look after yourself regresses to that of a three-year-old, you curl up in a ball and hide under the bed covers in the hope food will end up in front of you.
And you wish for that magic fairy to dunk you in a bath to get rid of that three-day "been in bed stench".
At this point climbing Mount Everest seems a better option.
'Hotel Parents gets five stars'
So, I moved back into my parents', and became my 14-year-old self again.
It wasn't a conscious effort. We went round for Sunday lunch and I was reminded how easy and relaxed life is when you become a child again.
I accidentally fell asleep and woke up in the morning with my dad proudly presenting a tray of goodies.
My husband was left to deal with the kids' mismatching socks at 6.30am on Monday morning while my mum asked me what I want for dinner at that same time as bringing me a mini breakfast buffet.
I know time is precious but right now I don’t have any energy to do anything other than sleep and eat
I was left with a plate of egg sarnies chopped into kid-size bites, so my stomach didn't turn at the sight of too much to eat, and my dad ensured Netflix was only an arm's reach away.
Hotel Parents gets five stars every time!
But, I know when my mum has had enough. It starts with, "well of course you can stay, if you want darling, but we're going out tonight".
That was my cue. I'd been fed up, and I was ready to fly the nest.
'For the first time in a year, I had to postpone chemo'
So with that, I managed to drag my sore arse to the Royal Marsden to get my bloods done, ready for more chemo the next day.
But, I just didn't want it.
Still not feeling 100 per cent, mainly due to the fact I'd lost half my insides down the toilet, and the day before my dad had to hold my hair back as I vomited, while pissing myself (something that hasn't happened to me since I was 18).
For the first time in a year, I asked to postpone my chemo.
'I questioned if I was playing with fire'
Immediately my head was filled with dark thoughts, demons started shouting at me, "what the f*** are you doing Deborah".
I started to question if I was playing with fire.
Would this extra week make all the difference? Would my tumour think it was time for a big party?
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But, we agreed I would postpone, and with that I scampered off to my bed, my safe haven.
'I feel beaten and defeated, my body is broken. Is this where I say enough is enough?'
And then it happened.
I hate this dark cloud, it hovers around like a little ticking timebomb, reminding you of your own mortality.
It sits on your shoulder like a parrot barking at you, a reminder that "time is precious, time is precious".
I know time is precious but right now I don't have any energy to do anything other than sleep and eat.
Should I feel bad about being horizontal, lying in bed watching back-to-back Netflix?
Should I feel bad about feeling so low?
I am not OK, I feel like crying, I feel like s***.
Despite my stable scan last week I feel like my stage 4 cancer has got me.
I feel beaten and defeated.
My body is at breaking point, is this where I say enough is enough?
'Cancer has taken too many days from me'
I got to Sunday, and all over social media people were saying "Happy World Cancer Day".
Happy? There's nothing HAPPY about cancer, I can assure you.
I decided on a few things, there and then.
Everyday is cancer day for me, so today I'm renaming it, "f*** you cancer day".
Beyond giving some cash and raising awareness so others do the same, I wasn't giving my day over to cancer.
Hell no! Cancer has taken too many days from me already.
Instead I chose to have a fun day, dancing in the face of cancer. My husband ran the Cancer Research UK race as I watched 20,000 people, many who had cancer but all who were touched by it, telling cancer to do one.
'I'm not ok, I'm really not'
But the big realisation for me was, I wasn't OK. I really wasn't OK.
I cried as everyone ran past me with the names of loved ones lost.
I cried as I imagined one day my husband might be running in memory of me.
I have a friend, one of those wise friends who is more knowledgeable than me.
She tells me to be easy on myself, to be kind.
I never got this, but I started to un-pick what she's said to me.
'It's OK to not be OK, I need to be kind to myself'
My feelings are normal, more than normal.
How can I expect to be OK carrying the weight that I do?
I'm not a super human.
I'm not an emotional flat liner.
MORE THINGS CANCER MADE ME SAY
So for once in my life, I need to lower my expectations and take advice from my friend, to be kind to myself.
To know it's OK not to be OK.
So I do. I order McDonald's again for breakfast, I put Friends on Netflix, snuggle under the blanket and feel OK.
I stop having a go at myself for not being on top form.
I'm doing alright, I'm doing the best I can.
Today, I'm letting myself feel like crap. Tomorrow I will party.
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Tell me your journey, show off your scars, share what keeps you smiling, or how you are giving two fat fingers to cancer (or anything else for that matter!)
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