Run into a wall? Rest

WORDS: PHOTOGRAPHY

CB’s BC Journal

There have been days since starting chemotherapy when I’ve felt pretty much like my old, normal self. Then, there have been many days when I don’t even recognise myself (and not just my reflection). After chemo last Friday I’ve felt constantly nauseous and battled some dizzy spells.

I’m learning to move slowly, to be more mindful and give my body a few moments to adjust. There is a creeping acknowledgement that I am not my old self.

I’m struggling to walk my dog and there are days I don’t want to go into the sun at all; as these are two of my favourite things to do in life they’re very real indicators that things have changed.

Of course, things were going to change; you don’t undergo chemo and remain the same. When one of the breast care nurses first said to me, “You’re not going to come out of this the same person you are now”… I felt a few stray tears fall.

I’ve worked hard to become this person in sobriety; I’ve worked so incredibly hard to rebuild my life over the past six and a half years. I like who I’ve become. It stung that I have to wave her goodbye. I guess life is all about learning to let go, and this current challenge is testing me.

It’s so strange travelling to treatment knowing that by the time you start your journey home, you’re going to feel so different. I literally start to feel that shift as the drugs flow into my body.

The first few days after treatment are like a fog. I don’t know if I’m hot or cold. I feel nauseous but hungry. I feel numb yet overwhelmed. It’s like a really long, bad hangover without any of the fun bits at the beginning.

For those who are visited by the Black Dog, it doesn’t feel the same as depression.

The first time I felt this way after treatment, I panicked thinking, “F**k, is this how I’m going to feel for six months?” The good news is: it’s not!

This too shall pass.

That fog does start to clear and slowly but surely, you feel yourself coming out the other side. The old you starts to return. Little glimpses turn into hours and hours into days. You wake up and beam a huge smile because you just know you’re feeling better.

I still don’t feel that I have loads of energy, but I’ve managed a few little walks and concentrated enough to churn through some work. My goal is to continue to work through treatment, take some time off after surgery to heal and then get back to it.

I’m taking lots of photos because I want this chapter in my life to pop up on my Facebook memories as a reminder of what I went through.

I’ve started making a list of things I’m looking forward to doing on the other side of this long nightmare. It’s a big list!

Yes, this breast cancer journey is hard at times; I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

Yes, sometimes I feel like I’ve run into a wall.

But sometimes, I know that wall has been put in my path for me to lean on. The wall is my friend now.

When I run into that wall, I learn to rest, learn to breathe, learn to do the best I can, I learn to be gentle and kind to myself, and learn to trust that all is just the way its meant to be.

See you next week!

Corrine x

Corrine was diagnosed with Stage 2B breast cancer, which has spread to her lymph nodes. Her medical oncologists are pursuing a “cure”, which will begin with a six-month course of chemotherapy at Gold Coast University Hospital, followed by surgery at Robina Hospital and then likely further treatment.
Corrine will be writing a weekly blog journaling her personal journey for Ocean Road Magazinethroughout her breast cancer.