Move Your Feet

 

Not much has been going on since my last treatment of Hyper Cvad.  Well nothing medical.

I started maintenance and everything seems to be ok.  Though I do still feel tired at times, but not the extent of what it once was. ( Go Hemoglobin!)

Other than the fatigue and my liver enzymes being slightly elevated from the oral chemo, (which I was told to stop for a few days to see if they level out or if they need to adjust the dosage.) I’ve been doing pretty good.

Actually really pretty good.

As per previous bitch and whine fests, I am still “cleaning up” cancer’s shit fest, and expect I will be cleaning up for some time.

As fleeting as it is, time is all I have these days.

I’ve been trying to incorporate some work out activity, but I’ve noticed that my legs feel stiffer when I move.  I walk with the gait of a 80 year old who has just had a hip replacement.  The backs of my ankles just feel tight and strained and unwilling to bend to the fluidity that is needed to put one foot in front of the other and walk.  It’s as if all of a sudden I am living out my nightmares of not being able to move.  More specifically, to walk.  Those dreams of feeling like my feet are cemented to the ground and it takes every ounce of will to lift them.  However, in real life I push those damn legs to do what they were evolved to do.  Move.

Because of the intensity and severity of the chemo, lack of bone density and osteoporosis has began to show in my femurs.  A regiment of Vitamin D has been added to my cache of pills I have to take on the daily.

I have been trying to incorporate more physical activities to my day.  Working out specifically or walking, though the dedication and discipline of the work outs are not sticking.  Some days I’m on it….other days I’m just too tired and would much rather lay on the couch reading and eating a box of Milk Duds.

And Milk Duds aren’t doing anything for my ass and thighs.

I’ve been hooping here and there, but nothing of great extent.  My body still feels heavy when I try to perform certain moves.  My legs especially.

Even though I have grown quite distasteful towards my physical appearance, I have decided to join in my troupe’s upcoming burlesque show.  I won’t be doing a hooping number, as I am no where up to par with my hoop abilities, so I will be doing a traditional bumps and grinds number.  I’m actually quite excited about the idea of the number, so I hope I can execute it in a fun, silly and flirty way.

Now if I could just get excited about my stomach, butt & thigh ripples, that would be even awesomer.

 

 

 

The Waves Have Come.

I’m nearing the end of the Hyper CVAD treatments.

Only two more to go.

I’m really fortunate that this last round went as smoothly as it did.  The only thing I noticed was the slow cumbersome drag of fatigue, which hit probably a day or two before I was discharged.

In fact, the Dr. was all set to send me home a few hours after finishing my last bag of Cytarabine.  To which I said no.  I wanted another night,  especially since they had given me 40mgs of lasix that morning.

Of course transitioning from the hospital to home is always strenuous.  Part of me is relieved to slip into the familiarity and comfort of my bed and blankets but there is that other part of me that perhaps goes through a sort of withdrawal from the accessibility and ease that comes with being cared for.  I don’t have to worry about drinking enough fluids, because they are being pumped into me without any real notice.   Only the changing of the bag reminds me that there is something dripping into my veins.  I don’t have to worry much if I feel sick or off, because I ring the nurse and they bring the appropriate relief.

At home I’m left guessing.  Which leaves me feeling anxious and paranoid about every pain, every sensation, every function my body undergoes.  I often lay there  wondering what is normal and if I should be concerned.  And it’s hard to judge what is “normal” as chemo affects everyone differently.

You become inimitably hyper aware of everything your body is or is not doing.

There is also a soul crushing sadness that seems to be looming and thickening as the treatments progress.  One would think it would be the opposite as the treatments wind themselves down to completion, more a sense of elation, but for me, these feelings have been getting heavier and heavier.

It comes with feeling isolated.  Being removed from the normal activities of life far longer than I care for.  Not being able to relate to the day to day of the world outside of you, and feeling you have nothing else but this disease to offer.

I spend a lot of time alone.  Not at the fault of anyone.  And even when I’m not alone I feel sad at my lack of contribution.  I can’t offer much.

Why would I want to have people sit around watching shitty Netflix with me when they can go about and have adventures?  Life with out the burden of this disease or its treatments.

Loved ones have the luxury of stepping away from all this….even if it’s for a few hours. And at times I am very  envious.  And of course…bitter.

Of course none of this is directed towards the people I love and adore.  I want my loved ones to soak up as much life as they can.  Even if it’s the mundane day to day.  I live vicariously through others at this point.

It’s the shittiness of this situation.   The shittiness that is leukemia and the course of chemo that leaves me so incapacitated.

I know a better way to look at all this presently is the fact that  I am still here fighting.   And kicking ass.  Many are not as fortunate.  And believe me, I am especially grateful in those regards.

Perhaps this is just all part of the grieving process.

The loss over a life I once knew.  The girl I once was.

The force-able wiping of the slate clean.