Today we got some new Fall clothes for Porter in the mail. I opened them, folded them, spread them all out. Decided they needed washed, went into his room, grabbed a few more things that needed thrown in the wash. I touched all his drawers, opened and closed them, organizing a few of his sweet small things. Gathered them up and walked down the two flights of stairs to start a load of laundry so he can wear some of these new fall clothes with this chill in the air. I plopped the clothes in the wash, turned the dial to cold, poured in the detergent, and hit start. I looked up, staring off, realizing I can’t remember the last time I started a load of laundry.
All of these things, I haven’t done in weeks. Maybe I’ve done chore here and there. I barely ever step foot in the basement, it’s just too far from my bedroom. I came back upstairs, looked outside the big window of our room and felt really grateful and fulfilled doing this simple task. In my pre-cancer days, I would rush through this task, flying from room to room, frantically checking things off my to-do list. My time was so limited, with work, the boys, maintaining our property, rest and relaxation was not much of a thing. And certainly enjoying running my hands across the boys clothes, sitting in their rooms, organizing their things, with just immense gratitude… No, my former life didn’t leave much time for that.
I’m sure a year from now, I’ll be out of treatment, cancer free, energy back, busyness back, and I’ll be buzzing from room to room, feeling frazzled, resenting all the house work, feeling overwhelmed again with work and the house, and taking for granted the simplest of things.
But, maybe I won’t.
Maybe this time will teach me something about life. Maybe I’ll learn that there’s a lot more to life than being productive. Maybe I’ll slow down and sit in Nolan’s room and marvel at his small clothes, that won’t be small much longer. Maybe I will pick up that vacuum with some zest, and excitedly clean the house, something I can’t do right now. Maybe I’ll take out the trash and smile, feel the breeze, and feel grateful for strong legs that allow me to do so.
Maybe all of these little things, that once stressed me out, that felt like something I had to do or accomplish, maybe I will appreciate them. Because once you get to a point in your life where you physically can’t do something, you realize pretty quickly how much you didn’t hate doing it at all. Man, what I would give right now to spin around this house and clean it top to bottom. What I would give to chase my kids down the hill through the meadow in this crisp fall breeze. I would love to be able to cook dinner, give them their baths, watch a show with Nick, drive somewhere, anywhere. It’s all just gotten too hard. The first few weeks I was able to be up, doing things, cleaning, spending time with the boys, etc. But the further I have gotten into treatment, the weaker I have gotten, the more sick I have gotten, that good days and good moments are getting harder to find. My energy is just not there. My legs can barely hold me up, the more I move the more exhausted I feel and I’ve found the last couple weeks that staying in bed is just serving me best right now. Physically.
Mentally, that’s a whole other story. The nausea, dizziness, vertigo, weakness, brain fog, it’s leaving me almost no room to be around the people I love. I am just too depleted right now. Nick and my mom and Nolan and Porter pop up throughout the day to check on me, but mostly I am in my room alone, resting, trying to be patient during the hardest time in my life. It’s hard to think of anything but cancer, my symptoms, how isolated I feel, and how badly I want my old life back. Well, my old life but in a new way.
Chemotherapy, and all the cancer treatments and drugs that go along with that, it’s A LOT. I’m currently on 13 meds. WHAT. I was afraid to take Pepcid before this. You have symptoms of one thing, you take another, side effects to that thing, so you take another, all just to survive. I still don’t have the concoction perfectly figured out. I’ve still let the sickness creep up on me hard and fast where I am in true misery. But I’m getting better. I’m realizing what days are my worst, what drugs I need to get through those days, and not missing a dose. It’s hard friends. I don’t recognize my brain or my body. It’s just been really hard. I’d be lying if I said I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know it’s there, right now it’s just dim. Realizing the 2nd half of treatment is going to be much harder than the first has me struggling to press on. But I know I will. I have to. Some days I don’t know where that strength is going to come from, but I find it, every time.
I have 6 more chemo treatments, (a lot more targeted drugs and treatments that will last long after that, but I’ll get into that another time) - So at least 7 more weeks of feeling like an absolute garbage can. Halfway feels good but, whew, the end can’t come soon enough.
But right now, right in this exact moment, I feel okay. Okay enough to pull thoughts together to write this. Okay enough to fold my babies clothes and start a load of laundry. Okay enough to dream of future me, who is thankful for house work and social calendars and moving my body and enjoying food. And I’m gonna take that as a win.
Porter took this photo on his iPad and its one of my favorite things in the world right now.
A photo of two selfless, incredible, amazing photographers who shot a wedding for me last weekend.
I know I have said this, but I will say it again and again…. We have the most amazing people in our life. We have been showered with food, love, support, gifts, flowers, cards, messages…. I cannot get over it. I love you all. I am so so so so thankful for the time and effort each of you have put in to make our days brighter. Our village is showing up in every way possible and it has been so heartwarming and created this safety for our family. Thank you all. We love you endlessly.