Friday, 23 November 2012

Here's what's up...

Well hi...

I guess I'll start by saying sorry it's been so long. To be honest, this has gotten harder and harder to do.
When I started writing, it all seemed so much. It was all so big that it just needed to get out. So while I was receiving thanks for being so honest about my experience I was also feeling thankful for having an outlet for all this garbage.

So if this is about honesty, then it's honesty's fault that I haven't logged on in a while. I'm having a very hard time really letting people know how hard this has been. How hard this continues to be. Everyone is so ridiculously worried about me. I feel so much pressure to be ok. But I don't feel ok. I'm so ridiculously sad all the time. My beautiful daughter is simultaneously the best and worst part of every day. Sorry for the cliche, but I'm on this crazy roller coaster over feeling so much joy and love for her one minute and then at a moment's notice I'm more heartbroken than I've ever been at the thought of her calling out for me and me not being there. My counsellor at the BCCA said to me "You're so in love with her aren't you?" And I am. I really am. She is my favourite human being and I just can't handle the fact that my time is getting cut short with her. She deserves to have her mother here. She's done nothing wrong. I deserve to be tormented by a teenage daughter. Just ask my mum. She'll tell you. I have it coming to me. So why the hell is this happening??

Just getting that off my chest feels better. I don't want everyone to think I spend all my moments in total despair, because I don't. But I will admit that I struggle not to. It seems far easier to me to accept the time line I was given by my oncologist than it does to have blind faith that these supplements and infusions are going to cure incurable cancer. I re-read some of my earlier blog entries tonight. Remember my first one? About my writing being cringe worthy? Right now I'm cringing over the frustration I felt about my doctor not discussing my prognosis with me. Me and all my zero experience with this subject matter knew I could handle it. WRONG. Turns out Dr. C knew me better than I know myself. "We're going to wait and see Ashlyn" he said. And I hated him for it. The next time I see him I plan on wrapping my arms around him in a super inappropriate hug and thanking him for the favour he did me last year. For giving me that extra time in blissful ignorance. Where hope didn't seem far fetched. When worrying IF I was going to die was still a luxury.

So where's all this doom and gloom coming from? Well, they cancelled my chemo for tomorrow. My kidney's aren't functioning properly so no chemo for me. That was on top of the news that my hemoglobin dropped again and I need another blood transfusion. Curve balls. I've officially entered the part of this process where we have to troubleshoot. What I'd give for some side effects along the muted taste buds line. Trouble with organs?? No thanks. Welcome to really feeling like a cancer patient. What a kick in the head today was. Here I was thinking that I was getting ready to start chemo session #9 (that's round 5.1). I only had 8 rounds of chemo the first time around. I was thinking, "Now's when the benefit kicks in. It's all bonus cancer killing time now!". I've built up the importance of chemotherapy in my head so much. To have it taken away because I'm not healthy enough to receive it is beyond deflating.

Deflated. That's what I am. It's been hard to recognise or label because this is all so out of character for me. Pre-cancer Ash was always up. Zero shortage of energy. Zero shortage of positivity. But I'm faking my way through the day. I haven't wanted to blog because then you'd all know. All your messages about my strength and courage... well let's just say I don't exactly feel like I'm living up to all the hype. And as much as I have no shortage of support in my life, when I try to explain what's going on inside my head, no one really gets it (not that I want anyone I love to know what it's truly like to be told you're going to die). Or it's just too hard for them to hear. Or more likely, I just can't bring myself to be honest about it, because it makes everyone so unspeakably sad. So there I am. Deflated and isolated to boot.

I'll let that be the end of this bitch session. Sorry this wasn't exactly an uplifting update. Did any of you actually want to hear any of that? Was getting any of that off my chest worth the collective increase of worry my friends and family are going to feel now? Or are they, just like me, feeling a variation of the same things and we're all just wearing our "it's all going to be ok" masks to get us though? Maybe... Maybe not.

Back to the honesty. I can honestly say that I hope to write again soon. And with a SIGNIFICANTLY better story to tell. Thanks for listening...

Much love,