The kids and I were planning to take a trip to New York City in the early fall. Lucia wanted to see the Statue of Liberty; Owen wanted to visit the National Museum of Natural History. Apparently they have the only known remains of some prehistoric cat. Anyway, the additional chemo meant that plan was out the window.
Surprisingly, the kids weren't as disappointed about delaying that trip as they were about the fact that I had to do more chemo. When I told Owen, he slumped his shoulders and said, "Now you'll still be tired all the time on the weekends." He was right. Lucia was very quiet at first, but when I encouraged her to talk about it, she said, softly, " I feel sad, because I want things to go back to normal, but I don't even really remember what normal is like."
I was heartbroken. I want things to go back to normal, too. I want to have the energy to do more with them. I want this to not be so in-your-face a part of our lives. I don't want to keep planning things around chemo treatments and surgery dates. Lucia and I talked some more, and I reassured her that we would keep moving forward, and that we'd do it together.
At this point, I've had two of the four infusions of carboplatin. It makes me more nauseated than any of the other chemo drugs have. After the second treatment, it was more than a week before I could really eat much food again. I'm so, so worn out and sick after each chemo treatment. I'm ready to be done. I'm ready to get on with all the things I've put on hold for the past several months. I'm just. worn. out.
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