That sinking feeling

Keeping it real. Most cancer patients will tell you that living with this insidious disease is like being Roseanne Roseannadanna. 

It's always something. 

I feel as if cancer will not give me many breaks. I started a new regimen of chemo 8 days ago. I was leery. The women in my support group had not been overly impressed with this chemo drug as it seemed rife with side effects. 

I told myself to keep an open mind. 

At first, it seemed ok for the first few days. None of the dreaded mouth sores that everyone warned about. I was tired, but that is cancer. I am always tired. I did get leg cramps, but no more than I did on my previous medication. I carefully watched my blood sugar as it is listed as a possible side effect and I was told that it would show it up RIGHT AWAY if it was going to be an issue. 

Blood sugar remained steady. I began to get mouth sores. I diligently used my mouthwash. They hurt, but...pain is relative and something that you get used to when you have cancer. It just comes with the program. 

I went to bed last night thinking that maybe I could do this. Maybe I could get through this treatment. The dreaded Afinitor. The chemo drug that everyone dreads. 

I felt almost.....content. Dare I say....cocky?


But, cancer will not allow contentment or cockiness. Or not much. 

I woke up around 2 a.m. and decided to check my blood sugar. Normal blood sugar for me on chemo drugs is 100-190. A big margin, I know. But, considered normal for someone with cancer. Mine had been hovering around 158 for 8 days running. 

It was 205. 

Shit. 

And the odd thing? I had barely eaten dinner that night. My stomach had been queasy, but since Afinitor must be taken with food, I had forced myself to eat some cheese and crackers. 

I went back to bed, sick to my stomach with worry. Woke up at 5 to take my meds. Checked again. 

248. 

WHAT THE FUCK? 

 I had an appointment with my rheumatologist this morning, so I skipped breakfast and went to it. Picked up coffee on the way home. A flat white, one of my favorites that has less than 6 carbs. Safe. 

I checked it again. 

268. 

I will have to call my oncologist tomorrow if this keeps up. My head is down and I am feeling more than sorry for myself. 

JESUS CHRIST! I have tried SO hard to be upbeat, to be a good camper. To not entertain negative thoughts. To hope for the best. And it was all going so well. I was puking, but not ALL THE TIME. I was hurting, but I sucked it up. I had so many mouth sores that I could barely eat, but I never once complained. I TRIED. I TRIED SO HARD. But, you MOTHER FUCKING CANCER...you just can't let me have any wins, can you? Ok. You're the boss. I give. My hands are up. I surrender. 

Please, please, please....be a fluke. Please let me check tonight and have it be back to the 150's. Please. I can't do the more insulin thing. And what if it doesn't work? I can't do this. Please.

I am sighing. Because this is what it has come to. Me bargaining. Me begging. Me submitting. 

My sword is down. I am slumped on the sofa. 

One last plea: 

Please.   

Sometimes, on my worst days, I can hear our voices all around the world. Feel all of us looking up, or head in hands, or just staring straight ahead.

Please.