It is now January 10th and I lost a week. January 3rd was my treatment and I have lost nearly all the first 10 days in January. The last couple of days in December and January 1st & 2nd were filled with dread of the treatment. I was feeling well & healthy, but my mind just spiralled into the fear of coping with the next chemo.
My greatest fear was 'would that portacath' work? I couldn't get it out of my head how painful it still was and what a failure it had been the first time. Despite, all good intentions, I wasted those days. As it turned out Thursday 3rd wasn't my treatment date, it was Wed 2nd; after phoning at 8.30am on Wed morning to confirm my Thurs appointment Ivan and I went out for the morning. On our return I received a phone-call asking where I was, the confusion was complete.
I then, rushed into the hospital and was seen really quickly, the portacath insertion went really well and the treatment worked. Very little pain, no extreme cold, excellent and then it started. By the time I got home I was feeling horrible.
All the stress, the pressure the negativity and the chemicals combined and I was sick. For the past week, I have been sick; too sick to drink, too sick to eat and too sick to think that this too would pass.
Of course it has! It is 8 days and last night around 9pm, the worst of it was over. I didn't sleep much last night - it was hot, hot, hot. But, this morning I have woken without the horrible nausea, diarrhea and vomiting. I can now concentrate on healing for 2 full weeks.