Riding the Chemo Wave

I rode a metaphorical wave last year and I find I’m still riding it. It’s easier now, but memories of chemotherapy still keep coming back.

With the cold I’ve just had, my muscles were so sore for 24 hours, I thought I was back on chemotherapy – no energy, aching muscles and fatigue. Thank goodness it was just a very bad cold that laid me low for 10 days.

Photo by Julie Geldard

Photo by Julie Geldard

I’ve now recuperated and have just spent 9 days at Airlie Beach for Race Week. I was crewing on a J70 (7m) sports boat with my husband and two friends – perfect for recuperation of every aspect of my mind, body and spirit. The best part was we had a fun week and came third in our division. Very exciting!

My recent illness has caused me to think again about last year and riding the wave of feeling and being unwell.

Thinking back, when I had the initial consultation about chemotherapy with my Oncologist, we discussed what the side effects and experience would be like. She said, “some people say, ‘I’ve had worse hangovers than this’ and others have been on the phone to the nurses and me from day one.“ I thought I’m going to be the ‘hangover’ type. For the first three sessions (of FEC) which I had once every three weeks, that’s how it was.

I would feel unwell, needing to go to bed each afternoon for an hour or two (rather than not being able to get out of bed in the morning) over the first 5 days. In the second week, my energy would begin to slowly return. In week three I’d start to feel a little like my old self. The hardest part was  knowing I was going to have another session in a few days time and start the cycle all over again.

As the treatments progressed, I began to experience a disconnection between my brain and body. My mind couldn’t work out what was going on. It wasn’t like having a virus where your mind goes with the flow of your body. It was like I was being poisoned.

Two days before the each chemo session, I would feel deeply sad and constantly break into tears when anyone talked to me.

By treatment three, I thought ‘I need help. I’m not coping with the emotional roller coaster I’m on.’ My Oncologist had told me that there are psychologists who specialize in assisting cancer patients. She’d recommended a practice on Sydney’s north shore. I got in touch with them, made an appointment and organized a referral and a five treatment programme through my GP. This enabled me to claim the sessions through Medicare. Fortunately I only needed two.

I wasn’t sure what I was so upset about. Was it that I had had early breast cancer? Was it post-operation depression? Was it the thought of beginning to feel well and then filling my body with more chemotherapy?

Even though I imagined the chemotherapy drugs as being ‘gold’, killing the cancer and making me well again, it didn’t feel like it. Going from feeling well to intentionally making myself ‘sick’ was mentally and emotionally tough. I felt desperate.

Body Surfing

With the assistance of the psychologist, I created the experience of being on chemotherapy, as being like body surfing. Sometimes you catch a wave and it dumps you. Other times you catch a wave and have a fun easy ride. This analogy made the experience easier. Whilst it didn’t stop the emotional roller coaster, I was able to accept the chemo, go with the flow of it and be okay with feeling sad and emotional. I gave up trying to stop ‘being dumped’.

Throughout my treatment I meditated every day. This gave me access to another sense of freedom which I’ll talk about next time.

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