Pollyanna, I Am Not.

Pure misery. 
That's the only way I can describe the last round of chemo.

I tried to put a sugary spin on things, and would say things like, "tomorrow WILL be better".  But to myself, that sentiment sounded really stupid.
I'm not an innately "sunshine and hearts"-type personality.
Tell it like it is.
Pukey, pukey.  Chemo sucks.
And I don't want to do it again.
I will do it again.
But that doesn't mean I have to want to.

I can't even put a finger on what the worst thing is.  There are so many "worst things".

The day-of, and the day-after chemo were OK.
But then I had that rapid descent in to hell, once again.

I thought I might be lucky enough to avoid massive food aversions, because that didn't really happen during the first round.
This time?  No such luck.
I was hungry.  But NOTHING sounded good.  Not even meat.

And again, I can't pinpoint the absolute hardest part about the chemo symptoms, but I'd say that it was a tie between: lack of focus, and nausea.

On Wednesday night I came to the conclusion that I will probably never be able to go on a cruise.
After the first round of chemo, Wednesday was my "turning point" day.  So, I expected it to be the same way this time.  But by Wednesday of round 2, I was still feeling really ill.
I have got to figure out someway to get rid of expectations!  Not meeting them, is killing me.  But again, it's just something about my personality.  I've never been a good "roll with the punches" kind of gal.
Anyway, cruise ships.
I spent the ENTIRE night, Wednesday, feeling like I was in the middle of a storm at sea.

Around 12:30AM, I woke up and yelled at Nick for making the bed move.
I seriously thought he was kicking the mattress, or something; and making constant wave motions.  Turns out, he wasn't.  I had to apologize to him, the next morning.

A little after 1AM, I decided that maybe a change of scenery would help me sleep better.  I was aiming for our downstairs guest bedroom, but changed my mind halfway down the hall, because I didn't want to navigate the stairs on legs that weren't seaworthy.
I opted for the couch, in the family room, instead.
I did manage to catch a few zzz's.  But eventually, the seasick feeling hit me again.  I literally, grabbed on to the upholstery on the couch, and was hanging on for dear life.  I thought, for sure, I was going to be spun right off the sofa.
Fortunately, I survived.  But, man alive!  I am not having a good time.

The one thing I'm dealing with, after this round, that I won't have to deal with again; is the hair loss.
AND IT HURTS LIKE THE DICKENS!
I mean, yes, my scalp is tender.  But my emotions about losing my hair are far more tender.
I do cry, every time I think about it.  Or, every time I see myself in the mirror.
I've taken to wearing a hat.  Full time.

The brain fog is awful too.
I literally cannot organize anything.  It truly hurts to think.
I feel like a bumbling idiot.
I have to consult the play-date calendar my amazingly-gracious neighbor put together, for my kids, multiple times a day to know where my children are; and even then! I can't recall it 5 seconds after I look at it.
There was a hiccup in the schedule one day, and I could not wrap my brain around it.  I could not access my organizational skill-set enough to fix a simple snafu.  It was really upsetting.
And that's just it.  EVERY little thing, in life, is so much more upsetting to me, all of the sudden.
Lunch is not ready precisely at noon?  I fall apart.

My friend, Janetta warned me about this.  And I am glad she did.
At least that means I can identify the fact that I'm freaking out for no reason.  But it doesn't make it any easier to live with.

So, if you have spoken to me; and I seem like a looney-lady?  It's because I am.
I know I've given people incorrect information.
I know I haven't responded to phone calls, or texts.
I know I have made plans, and then haven't followed through.
I know I haven't properly thanked so many people that have done nice things for me.

And it's weighing on me.  Being like that is atypical of my personality.
But that this point, all I can do is offer a feeble apology.  I wish I had the energy to do more.
Chemo's getting me down.

All of that being said....  I'm not a total sad-sack.
In my darkest moments, I would focus on the comment that Jill made, when she told me to "fight like hell, girl!".
I may not know how to turn everything in to lollipops and rainbows.  But I do know how to fight.