Ever since chemotherapy started, I haven't been able to sleep through the night anymore. I wake up once, sometimes twice, a nice because I'm sweating profusely, like the temperature in my room was a good 90 degrees. Other times, I wake up because my anxious thoughts dictate that I be awake.
What if I get hospitalized?
What if I'm never physically the same after chemotherapy?
What if I go into menopause for real, and I can't ever have any children?
What if this comes back?
What if I don't make it to my mom's age?
I lie in my bed most nights, feeling cold because of my bald head but at the same time, hot because my body thinks it's going through menopause. In all actuality, I know that three months is a short time and might even be here before I know it. Right now, I have a hard time using that thought as a motivator. I have to take it day by day, and on my bad days, hour by hour. All I can see is my next appointment and this week, that appointment is happening tomorrow. I'm having an ultrasound done on my liver because right now, chemo is laying some shit down on my liver.
Yesterday was a bad day. I cried most of the day and felt absolutely drained. Times like yesterday, I wish I could crawl up next to my mother and have a good cry. I've been missing her so much during my treatment. I would give anything to have her there with me for all my treatments and to let me know I can survive this. Is it wrong I want a mother figure to come and take care of me, even if it's for a couple of days. My parental units did come over last and visited me and the pup for a little bit. They saw my bald head for the first time. I don't know if that's something that affected either of them. My family lacks emotions.
At the end of a bad day, nothing makes the world right again like a cuddle with your sweetie. I love my boyfriend so much and would do anything for him. I could cry right now when I think of how grateful I am to have him in my life. I'm so glad I don't have to go through this alone. He is such an amazing man. He hugs me, comforts me and tells me I'm pretty, even though I look like a bald 50 year old man.
The point of this entry - I'm exhausted. I rarely leave my house. I wear sweatpants pretty much every day of the week. I don't feel like myself. I'm petrified at every dizzy spell or sharp pain in my chest. I have no patience and have cut off ties with several people in my life because I just don't have the energy to care anymore. Cancer sure ain't pretty.