Three Weeks Off the Poison

 It's amazing what three weeks with no chemo will do to boost spirits! 

After discovering an infection around my colon at my last appointment, Dr. Cole thought it would be best if I just focused on fighting that mess with antibiotics and rest and healthy lifestyle choices .  I did really well at following my doctor's advice on resting and fighting that infection, but could have been more diligent with the healthy stuff.  I definitely needed to drink less Dr. Pepper and more water, snack less,  and be more active.  Should-a, would-a, could-a, though.  Am I right?  I did experience some negative consequences, though, some that are still biting me in the butt, three weeks later.  

Partly from some less-than-stellar choices and partly from an upset in the former balance of drugs in my system, I paid for that lack of wisdom in the end.  I forgot to  counterbalance the previously *normal* balance of drugs, with all chemo being removed from one side of the scale.  Some chemo (and other medication I take to stay upright and alive) can cause diarrhea + some drugs cause me constipation. Since I was only had one side of the scale for three weeks, a change that actually took me to the point of NO balance, I experienced several days of serious constipation.  

With all the ups and downs I've taken over the years, my body has done a great job of keeping my bowels *normal* by evening-out the scales, for the most part.  This month, however, one side of this fragile balance was erased from existence. That change upset the delicate nature of what my body had been doing on its own. I had not given that process enough respect.    

This is probably TMI, but having dealt with hemorrhoids from at least one of my pregnancies and then days of aggravating that area without success makes thinking about anything else just as aggravating as the basic experience.  When I need to poop, but can't poop without pain and struggle, I just want to go back to bed or sit in the tub all day.  Those options were not completely plausible, but I could not think about anything else.  I even dreamed about a smooth poop experience. Reality was anything but.  

 In the past, my pain tolerance has been stellar.  My mastectomy was the first major part of this cancer journey that humbled me and brought me back down to realizing my fragility and that pain can be a good reminder to pay attention to the body's signs of warning and to stop bragging that I didn't feel much pain most of the time.  I am not immune to pain. Especially from the events of the last few days.  That pain had been anything butt* fun or manageable.  Something had to give.  It was time to get out of bed. (or the bath.)  

We made plans for some fun things while I was off the poison.  I have also been so grateful for many of those days full of fall weather, for feeling strong enough to work on a few major home/garage cleaning and organizing projects, to create some fun holiday crafts and decor for my own home and for a friend's, to be allowed to eat lunch with my elementary kids at school again, to see my oldest son's 1st band concert of 2020, to be able to get out and vote in the greatest country in the world, to get back to in-person (not just virtual) church, to take me out to the ball game and watch our baseball team ALMOST make it to the World Series, to have the kids back in school and staying healthy, and for Stephen's job allowing him to feel, overall, less stressed than before.  I'm also so grateful for the outpouring of  love and support from family and friends.  

As always, I have high hopes.  I am continuing to BTHO cancer.  I refuse to die during a pandemic.  I do not want my fight to end with no fanfare and celebration for all of those who have made the fight worth fighting.  

And, for the first time in my life, I have had to get prescription  glasses!  I'm in my forties and need them for driving.  I never thought I would live this long to need this change in life, so it is a small testament to God's miracles in my survival, allowing me to live long enough to require glasses.  Small and simple things bring about great examples of tender mercies, if you have eyes willing to see!  (I'm hoping this new spectacles bring me closer to that truth!)