No Shits to Give
To this point I’ve survived my first week of chemo relatively unscathed, having completed my second treatment yesterday. All in all, I handled the chemo fairly well, until I realized I hadn’t shit in a few days. This feels like serious TMI to be putting out there, but remember… this blog is for me, I just invited you to follow if you care to. Brace yourselves; personal revelations, both physical and emotional, might just become the norm here. If that makes you squirm, well, you've been duly warned.
Now, let's delve into the inner workings of my mind over the past week. Despite the chemo's toll, I managed to soldier on with a semblance of normalcy. Energy levels dipped, sure, but not to the point of incapacitation. I made a conscious effort to venture out daily, even treating my daughter, Quinley (with Grandma in tow), to a magical outing at Disney on Ice—a fleeting moment of joy amidst the chaos.
Guilt & Lonliness
Yet, amidst the whirlwind, a gnawing sense of guilt crept in. One of the hardest things through all of this is not wanting to be absent for my family, specifically my daughter. How in the hell do you make sure you’re taking care of yourself when you have a lingering feeling that by doing so you’re letting other people down? This conundrum, I fear, will only intensify as the cumulative effects of chemo take their toll.
And then there's the looming specter of loneliness. Despite the outpouring of support—seriously, you guys are amazing—I can't shake the feeling that this journey will be a solitary one. In a few months, life's hustle and bustle will drown out the chorus of well-wishers, leaving me and my battle to fade into the background.
As I brace for the challenges ahead, I find myself grappling with a lifelong struggle—asking for help. I've always been the type to soldier on silently, unwilling to burden others with my problems. But as I navigate this treacherous terrain, I implore you: Don't forget about me. While the flood of support this past week has been nothing short of incredible, if I could parcel out each well-wish and gift over the next year, I would. Stick with me, for the road ahead promises to be a tumultuous one, and I'll need all the support I can get.