Last week, I experienced withdrawl symptoms from my least favorite steroid: prednisone. And, while withdrawl, drug addiction, etc is glorified in the movies, I can assure you this was one experience I could have lived without experiencing. Seriously...withdrawl sucks. And here's the crazy thing, it took me almost a full week to realize just what in hell this was.
Nope, I'm not stupid. I am, however a good girl who likes to follow the rules. And, the rules as I understood them were simple: per doctor's orders, follow the tapering regimine from the drugs and look for the following: extreme fatigue and anorexia.
On the one hand, extreme fatigue is something I experience on a fairly regular basis. And, to date I've been told that I should just "push" through it. According to the folks in the white coats, my body has been under assault for the past nine months- from toxic poison to radioactivity- and apparently I'm supposed to find time to "recover" from all of this. That's right- cancer treatment- while over- requires some serious recovery time. They NEVER talk about that shit in the commercials. Nope. Instead, you see this healthy person running in the park who is all done with cancer. Just like that. Poof! It's over. Except like all things marketing related, that's a damn lie. I just never knew I was so gullible to believe that crap....
Anyway- let's just say, I was crazy tired. I was also depressed, achy and sore, had zero appetite (which is called anorexia by the white coated persons) and just a hot mess. And, being the good girl, trying to "push through" it, I chalked it up to me getting a nasty cold or virus. Boy, was I wrong.
Here's the thing- I made a HUGE mistake. Yep- I did. When I got my cancer diagnosis and underwent treatment, I found myself interested and yes, even attracted to, the idea of being treated "normally." That was my way of "pushing through" it. That's right. I wanted none of that poor me, cancer-victim crap. For example, I was still the good, compassionate friend, always there to listen, hold a hand, wipe a tear. I was the good girlfriend who kept herself up in appearances and never said no- even when I knew better....I pushed through it. And at the time, I really believed it was the right thing to do. While I have no regrets, I now realize I paid a huge price for it. The reason? I am no longer that person and I have to re-set the expectations of myself and everyone around me. Dammit.
This past Saturday, while dining with my good friend Patrick, he remarked: "Cancer? I thought you were all done with that." And on Sunday, my sister asked me "But, isn't your life better now?" To both of them, I replied- "No, not yet." And the reason? It is time to recover.
The road to recovery- which isn't mentioned in the cancer commericial- is long and scary. It is marked with the same amount of unexpected shit that I went through during treatment. For example, withdrawl- which implies addiction- wasn't on my to do list. Not sure how I missed it.....but missed it, I did.
Sure- there's a lot I'm glad to have behind me: port removal, nicely oxygenated red blood cells, no more tumors, no more chemo, the return of my facial hair. And the upside to withdrawl? I'm no longer constipated. Silver lining, folks. Silver lining.
Look, I love life. Bottom line. And I am really glad to be alive- I think....But, right now, I'm just not sure I love myself in THIS life. My road to recovery- while I really, really want to make it "normal" for myself and every person around me, isn't going to be easy- like the commercial. And that just sucks. Before, I would take such pride in my independence. Today, the litmus test for any person to be in my life is for them to ask: "Hey, do you need any help?" Cancer taught me to say YES. Recovery is making me demand help in all of its forms. And it is teaching me to just be glad to get through the day. This means I'm probably not going to be the best friend to rely upon. I am certainly not going to be a good girlfriend....Instead, from the outside, it will appear as if I am a major asshole. Maybe I need to get a t-shirt printed up that says: "Nope, not an asshole. Just in recovery."
So, goodbye to normal. I now gently push through the days donning my kindest asshole-like tendencies. I thank every person who has come to my side to help "push through" this time with me. You are saving my life and my sanity. And seriously- a word of advice: just say no to drugs. Withdrawl sucks.
