Life after chemo has been hard on me. With a sad face I want to pout, 'Herceptin isn't anything like they promised it would be. You liars, it reminds me way too much of chemo.'
I know I always described chemo as my black hole. The darkest, coldest, loneliest place on earth. But this weekend I think I hit rock bottom. It was freakin' hot and sweaty with lots of salty tears.
I have been feeling so sad for the last couple of months. My heart aches. I am nervous about everything. Everything. I seriously do not have any control over my nerves any more. I don't enjoy the things I used to. I'm so sad about everything that has happened to me. So scared about everything that is still coming up, the Herceptin I won't finish until January 2014. I see bears on the road everywhere. I'm done. It's been over a year and I'm done. I could not make it one step further.
So there I stood... in the middle of the room with my hands clinging to the dining table. Crying uncontrollably and screaming out loud I was going crazy. With my dad on my right side and my mum on my left side. Holding me.
So it's time. To reach out. I realized I can't do this all by myself any more.
So we called my oncologist and his secretary forwarded my appointment to next week. I am going to tell him how I feel and that I'm ready to see a psychologist.
Advice is like snow - the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper in sinks into the mind.
Yes. I finally made my decision and I realize that I won't be healed in a week or forgotten everything after a year. No this will be my bagage for the rest of my life. So I better make sure I give it a nice place. A little corner. Because I deserve that.