My chemotherapy schedule has started to wind down. I have one more very intense 8-week block left, which may or may not happen, but either way have completed over 9 months of a year-long course of chemotherapy.
You might think I’d be ecstatic. Isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for all this time? But after 9 straight months of having my body beaten down, there is not ecstasy, but a feeling of “What has happened to me?” and “What do I do next?”
The thought of going back to my regular life is scary, and feels impossible. My body is a shell of its former self. My psyche is scarred. Work? Friends? A normal day? How could I do these things when so much of what made me who I am is lost?
And so much has happened since I veered off track and left, and others around me have continued with their normal lives, doing exciting things like finishing their educations, starting private practices, getting married, having babies. I feel like I can’t catch up. Like I’m way out in the ocean, and everyone else is on shore, smiling and laughing and packing up and moving on.
I’m writing this at 4am because that’s when I’m awake these days, due to some bizarre affect affect of the chemotherapy. It’s a time when I’m not quite sure if it’s early or late, and everything is quiet except for the dull buzz of the few cars on the highway miles away.