When the doctor dropped the Lymphoma bomb on me and mentioned chemo, I could see it coming. Well, at least one thing. Okay, fine, one thing for sure and another as a maybe. And what were those things, you wonder? Well, let me tell you. Losing my precious locks and bidding farewell to my job, both hitting me like a double whammy within a span of just 48 hours.
I was ready for the cancer diagnosis. (Let’s face it, I had a hunch for months, hence the persistent nagging for that biopsy.)
I was ready for the chemo.
I was ready for the inevitable exhaustion.
I was even ready for those frequent out-of-town trips.
But you know what blindsided me? The hair loss. That, my friend, was the toughest pill to swallow in this whole new chapter of my life. I always bragged about being too vain to rock a bald look because I adored my long, luscious blonde mane. Well, well, well… look who’s laughing now? I pretty much lost every strand, except for a few rebellious ones putting up a commendable fight. As my eldest daughter so eloquently put it, “You look like Draco Malfoy with your slicked-back ‘do.” It stung at first, but now it’s just plain hilarious. I’ve come to terms with the bareness atop my head, and I’ve ditched the wig beanie I bought. Although, gotta admit, I do rock it pretty darn well!
I’ve been totally slaying this whole treatment thing like a boss. Yeah, I’ve got the not-so-fun nausea to deal with, but hey, I’ve turned it into a whole routine. I power through the chemo like a rockstar, embrace the crazy rollercoaster of the Neulasta injection 24 hours later, and then I’m outta there before you can say “Down with the Sickness.” It’s like a beautifully choreographed dance, just with more needles and definitely less sparkle. Thanks to that Neulasta injection, I’ve even been able to hit the shops and handle most of my shopping without turning into a couch potato. The downside? Oh man, it feels like your whole body is screaming as your bone marrow does its thing. My oncologist basically said, “No pain, no gain,” because the more I hurt, the better the meds are doing at fixing me up. Pain as a sign of progress, right?
At this point in time, I’m halfway through my treatment, and let me tell you, it’s been quite the rollercoaster. Tomorrow, I have to do the oh-so-fun task of turning in my work equipment and shelling out nearly $1000 for my insurance premiums. I know, right? It’s like paying a monthly fee just to have the privilege of being sick. My next treatment is scheduled for 01/30/24, and wouldn’t you know it, my insurance decides to call it quits the very next day. It’s like they’re breaking up with me or something. But hey, good news – I managed to score some financial aid assistance, so at least I can keep up with my chemo sessions. Plus, my insurance has been footing the bill for my flights to Arizona. Maybe I should start racking up some frequent flyer miles with all these trips! Ah, the joys of modern medicine, right?
juMOMjia 