Ten days ago, on 2/4, I started a combination of medication and it’s been a struggle to do anything for the last ten days. I think the fact that everything started all at once made a difference and that it’s been nearly 5 years since I last had IV chemo. With all the oral therapy I’ve had since I was in chemo last time, my body just isn’t the same. There is a picture I’ve included below about the what the weight of grief feels like.
The weight of chemo fatigue is similar …
For those of us diagnosed de novo (or from the beginning) metastatic, the “norm” is to start targeted therapy right away and so there is this general feeling that IV chemo is the beginning of the end. I’ve often fallen prey to this thinking as well, especially since this regimen is necessary because of progression to soft tissue for the first time. It certainly doesn’t feel like a move in the right direction. Going “back” to a regimen that kills all the fast dividing cells, healthy and cancer, really does feel like a step back as well as a move down a sinister path.
A path I don’t want to be on.
And yet, as I remind myself … where there is life, there is hope. There is hope that the regimen will do its job and I’ll be able to go “back” to targeted therapy, perhaps something in a trial right now. There is hope that the cancer mutating from more luminal A to now more luminal B means that the chemo will be effective.
That hope is just hard to hang onto when fatigue and other side effects just destroy the desire to do anything.
And so I will celebrate Valentine’s Day today and continue to do what is necessary, even if that is just to stay alive for another day. The MRI this morning will hopefully give us some additional information about how my liver is truly affected since PET/CTs aren’t always as sensitive.