Now that I’m 50% of the way through chemo, I’ve come to have an understanding- a reconciliation, if you will-of the rhythm of chemotherapy (for me).
In other words, I’ve created a “new normal”. For years, I’ve described this concept of creating a “new normal” to patients with whom I’ve worked. No matter how bad things seem to be at the dropping of the first F-Bomb, a “new normal” will eventually present itself.
In fact, this concept was one of the first things (between dropping F-bombs) that came into my head at the time of diagnosis.
So, for me, this means having chemo on a Tuesday and then having 11-12 bad (ridiculously, abnormally bad) days in the chemo pit of despair…and THEN, as if on cue, magically the dimmer on the lights go up…the curtains open…the sun shines a little more brightly…the birds sing a little more loudly (Silver Lining!).
As hard as it is (brutal at times) to endure the bad days, I hold onto the anticipation of the good (no, great) days.
TODAY is that day of bliss for me. No more chemo-sobby. Only tears of joy and gratitude for feeling a glimmer of health (physical, mental, emotional and social).
The day started with hiking and included visits with friends. I even made dinner (GASP!). The Husband’s eyes and smile were huge when he came home to an oven (and corresponding aroma) of baking brussel sprouts and me at the grill cooking his favorite salmon. “She’s back,” he said with a high five.
Having these good days gives me so much appreciation for the teeniest of tiny things…like cooking for my family or taking a photograph of a beautiful flower.
Gratitude is an art of painting an adversity into a lovely picture.