Let’s talk about the days following chemotherapy infusions.
Day 1: Chemo Day
Day 2: shaky, weak and felt pumped full of drugs but still have to go to the center to receive a shot
Day 3: IV anti nausea meds have worn off and I was awoken at 2:30 am to a child with a bloody nose. Fix sweet angel and get him back to bed. Had to make the tough decision to wait on the good meds so they will not wear off while I was in route to an appointment. I would rather be sick at home than in the car or at the surgeons office. I decided to wait it out with goldfish crackers and water. I made it until 7AM and rescued myself with breakfast and Zofran. The rest of the day was a full time job of small meals, rest and meds at the precise right times to continue playing the game of keep the terrible nausea monster at bay.
Day 4: This time it was a 3AM wake up call from a different sweet angel with a nightmare. We snuggled in tight on my side of the bed and drifted back to sleep. At 6AM my stomach realized that it was empty and the nausea monster was awoken. No need to worry, in between meds are on the nightstand and went down quickly. I’m up by this point so I might as well get dressed and start breakfast. This day played out a lot like day three, working hard to stay rested and ahead of nausea.
I’ve realized quickly that being a Mom has prepared me for these moments. Small consistent feedings and naps, just like newborns, will be how I thrive in these moments. The helpful husband, meds, mints, ginger tea and queasy candy have also been essential team players. However, my life around me still went on. My kids still needed me in the middle of the night, backpacks still needed to be packed, I’m still the calmer morning routine coordinator, my youngest is still home with me alone on Fridays wanting to do puzzles, the uniforms still need to be washed for games on Saturday and so many other things. Life does not stop because you have cancer. Your young kids do not understand that trying not to puke while doing a puzzle takes great concentration. This isn’t nausea from poor choices the night before, this is the price that I’m paying to live the rest of my life. This is a price I will pay over and over again until I am cancer free. Today was spent having more nauseous moments than good ones. However, I’m still breathing and I’m still fighting.
With Love,
Robin
On a side note: lots of friends and family have been feeding us, carpooling our kids, running errands, mailing cards, taking me to appointments and dropping by gifts. We appreciate all of the love and support so much. We wouldn’t be able to do this without the support of our village and would never try. Please know that we have a large village and we promise to keep reaching out over this long chapter.
Day 1: Chemo Day
Day 2: shaky, weak and felt pumped full of drugs but still have to go to the center to receive a shot
Day 3: IV anti nausea meds have worn off and I was awoken at 2:30 am to a child with a bloody nose. Fix sweet angel and get him back to bed. Had to make the tough decision to wait on the good meds so they will not wear off while I was in route to an appointment. I would rather be sick at home than in the car or at the surgeons office. I decided to wait it out with goldfish crackers and water. I made it until 7AM and rescued myself with breakfast and Zofran. The rest of the day was a full time job of small meals, rest and meds at the precise right times to continue playing the game of keep the terrible nausea monster at bay.
Day 4: This time it was a 3AM wake up call from a different sweet angel with a nightmare. We snuggled in tight on my side of the bed and drifted back to sleep. At 6AM my stomach realized that it was empty and the nausea monster was awoken. No need to worry, in between meds are on the nightstand and went down quickly. I’m up by this point so I might as well get dressed and start breakfast. This day played out a lot like day three, working hard to stay rested and ahead of nausea.
I’ve realized quickly that being a Mom has prepared me for these moments. Small consistent feedings and naps, just like newborns, will be how I thrive in these moments. The helpful husband, meds, mints, ginger tea and queasy candy have also been essential team players. However, my life around me still went on. My kids still needed me in the middle of the night, backpacks still needed to be packed, I’m still the calmer morning routine coordinator, my youngest is still home with me alone on Fridays wanting to do puzzles, the uniforms still need to be washed for games on Saturday and so many other things. Life does not stop because you have cancer. Your young kids do not understand that trying not to puke while doing a puzzle takes great concentration. This isn’t nausea from poor choices the night before, this is the price that I’m paying to live the rest of my life. This is a price I will pay over and over again until I am cancer free. Today was spent having more nauseous moments than good ones. However, I’m still breathing and I’m still fighting.
With Love,
Robin
On a side note: lots of friends and family have been feeding us, carpooling our kids, running errands, mailing cards, taking me to appointments and dropping by gifts. We appreciate all of the love and support so much. We wouldn’t be able to do this without the support of our village and would never try. Please know that we have a large village and we promise to keep reaching out over this long chapter.
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