Category Archives: Treatment

Why do we fight?

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Love, Treatment by

Now here is something a little personal. And no, this post isn’t about sex – although I could go on about that as well. But today is about fighting.

One and a half years ago, Zsolt and I promised to be loyal to one another. We promised for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, and to love one another till death do us part.

But we never promised not to fight.

Generally speaking Zsolt and I are an easygoing and happy couple. Things happen, we adapt, we have a talk, we share a laugh, we watch a movie and move on. Plates have never been thrown, and voices are hardly ever raised. Generally speaking, we don’t fight.

But then put us in a small apartment, add a splash of chemotherapy, a dose of cancer-scare, a shake of lower income, and a large scoop of thesis pressure . . . mix it all together, let it bubble over a few months, and then see what happens.

What happens?

Irritation, micro fighting, nit-picking, wit’s ends, and some poorly chosen words.

There is a new sort of pressure on our relationship that we need to push through. Life isn’t always easy; we’ve always been on student incomes, we’ve always had PhD pressure, we’ve always come from different cultures. And yet, we’ve always been happy. With Zsolt my choices are clear, my opinion is set. I’ve never doubted us as a couple, not even for a second.

Not even now.

Today, I just want to write about pressure. Pressure and fighting. It was such a relief yesterday when he and I finally spoke about this and realized we were both feeling that same tension. It was a relief to admit that we were becoming frustrated. Of course that doesn’t solve all problems, but it make me feel more united with him.

Maybe other people can relate to this? It must be normal, right? The pressure and stress and frustration has got be normal, yeah? Right?

Well at least I’m not alone.

Zsolt agreed things have been hard; it was a good moment for us both, and today was easier, lighter. We both recognized and stopped a fight before it happened. It certainly could have gone bad today, for no good reason but an open door. (I won’t go into details, but it involved ‘heating the outdoors’ as my dad would say).

Zsolt and I have been in situations of pressure before, but not often at the same time. So this is new in our relationship. We can’t always be each other’s rock.

And yet, at the same time – just knowing that he and I are in the similar boats makes a big difference. I don’t feel as alone, and hopefully neither does he. We’ll probably still fight – because hey, this is still stressful. But if at the end of the day I can slide into his arms, and he can kiss me on the head, and we can talk about our feelings . . . then I’ll guess things will be okay.

Fighting and pressure are worth mentioning, if also a little personal. But if you’re reading this blog to know what can expected during some cancer killing – I would expect some tension, and probably towards the people you love the very most. But it doesn’t have to conquer us, does it? Nope.

Because they are the people we love the very, very most.

I went half way around the world for Zsolt, and I’d go a lot further still. We might fight a little, but we love a lot more. No cancer is going to stop that.

Worst dressed list

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

No one can accuse me of having fashion sense, particularly when I still – almost thirty – insist on wearing different coloured socks. But you can’t say I’m a clothing monster, either.

Like most people, I have a few favourite pieces, a favourite season and a time to shine (summer dresses, summer tops, summer shoes = yay!) and alternatively I have outdated tops, bottoms that deserve the garbage and sweaters that do not flatter my shape.

Whatever. Winter and fall have never been my good seasons. It’s my philosophy to simply keep my head down from the wind, wrap that scarf tighter, and for goodness sakes put on a toque. And for this reason, and this reason alone, I’ll never win best dressed actress of the year.

However Zsolt has another award he’d like to bestow upon me: worst dressed chemo patient ever.

Do I deserve this? Hmmm . . .

Today we arrived for the TENTH treatment. ¡Ay, caramba! Time has granted my request and started to fly. Only six more sessions and that green chair will be history.

You know what, I’m incredibly lucky. There are people in that ward who don’t know when their chemo ends . . . chemo ends when it ends; things either work or stop responding. Who’s brave? They are brave. This lovely women was chatting to me today and she was giving such a positive front despite this being her second round to clear cancer. “We don’t know how long I’ll be here” she said, then quickly mentioned this was her second attempt. And all the while she smiled – now there is bravery.

Things are coming along. It’s funny because the nurses still expect me to get sick. This one lady was changing my picc line and talking about how AC chemo was difficult. “I just hated giving you that red stuff,” she said, which was surprising. The nurses know what’s coming, yet they do their best to chat about the weather, wear that ‘this is normal’ face, and make the experience pleasant . . . as pleasant as possible . . . I had never realized they might just hate what they’re inflicting.

That was an insight.

So was my husband’s response to my ‘Going to Chemotherapy to Kick Breast Cancer Ass’ outfit. It’s not the first time I’ve worn these cloths, but it is the first time he’s noticed.

Going to Chemotherapy to Kick Breast Cancer Ass Outfit (worn every Friday since the second dose of Paxlitaxol):

Really thick socks.

Shoes – preferably with shoe laces undone, if remembered.

Sweatpants. (the more loose, the better)

Tank top.

Giant husband-sized hoodie (sweater) discarded by Zsolt due to faulty zipper. (Zsolt’s main cause for protest)

My wolly toque.

Oranges in the mouth.

Frankly, the only people dressed more causally are the C5 patients in their robes. But this outfit has purpose! The socks keep my ankles warm; the sweatpants don’t restrict movement so I can lift my legs while sleeping; the tank top gives me a choice between warm & cold (hot flash protection); the SWEATER keeps me warm with its excessive size, and also the arms are so big that I can wear it and my picc line remains available for the drip; the toque blocks out light so that I can nap happily.

It’s a thoughtful outfit, despite looking terrible. Zsolt doesn’t understand, and I guess none of the other chemotherapy patients do either – many of them actually show up looking GOOD. Fashion as defiance in the face of adversity. Well, I tried that and couldn’t sleep properly in the chair.

So award for the sloppiest fashion in the chemo ward goes to me. It’s an honour.

Who doesn’t love a great outfit? But there’s a time and place – and when I feel tired, well frankly, I don’t give a damn.

It was a good session. 🙂

P.S. I’m waiting on my oncologist to send a letter to the doctor in Ottawa. It seems my file was misplaced, so they didn’t have the needed information. Enough of that – I called the secretary on Thursday and gave her the missing contact details. On Monday I’ll call again to confirm that the letter has been sent.