Cancer Pass

The world doesn't revolve around me having leukemia. That's something I was reminded of today.

Me having leukemia doesn't interfere with my life. Me having to deal with side effects from the medication I have to take because I have leukemia interferes with my life. And most days, I'm dealing with it. Some days its a lingering headache. Other days it's a constant thirst because of dehydration. Other times it's eating food and having a mild reaction because my medication doesn't like it for whatever reason. Most days it's extreme exhaustion.  A lot of evenings it's nausea that at times leads me to hugging the porcelain throne. But I've learned how to deal with it. I've learned how to manage it. I've learned how to make it through my day. But there are some days when I experience all of those side effects at once, and  it's those days that I wish I had a cancer pass. You know, like a hall pass, but instead of being excused from the classroom for the moment, I could be excused from the day. 

This morning was one of those days.  I woke up around 6am with a horrible headache and so completely nauseous, the kind of nausea where if I make one slight move, I'll be visiting my friend Ralph, if ya know what I mean.  And the only thing I can do is just lay there ever so still and just try to sleep through it. 

That's what I tried to do this morning. Sleep through it and wait for the worst to pass. Seems simple, no? Ah but it's not. While I try sleeping, Talon is late for school. While I try sleeping,  no one at work can cover a meeting for me. My phone keeps ringing, my inbox keeps filling up with emails that need responses. Because I have people depending on me, regardless of how I feel. So I rush to take a shower, and inevitably end up hugging the porcelain throne. I compose myself as best I can, get myself and Talon ready and hurry him along to school, all while trying to hold back tears of frustration. I hate the days when I feel horrible, and I hate when it interferes with my day, with my life, with my obligations. But in my frustration, I selfishly think to myself, "doesn't the mere fact that I have leukemia allow me to have a few free passes?" Just a few. A few days throughout the year where when I feel this miserable, I can skip the day. I don't have to worry about work, or being a taxi, or doing my domestic responsibilities. Where I don't have to worry about anything except laying in bed until I feel good , good enough to function again.  Most days I can push through, but there is an occasional day where I just can't, or matter of factly, don't want to. I just want to sleep through it and dream about the days I didn't have to take 9-10 pills a day in order to function, in order to live. 

Not only are these days physically tough, but they are also emotionally tough. I blubbered like a big baby most of the morning just out of frustration. I held it together when I walked into Talon's school to sign him in and drop off a note as to why he was late.  When I was leaving to go back to my car, I noticed a boy sitting outside the lunchroom, crying. (I assume he was in trouble). And I really wanted to walk up to him and give him a big hug and say " I'm having a bad day too." 

And when I make it to my work meeting and begin talking about the great work we do at United Way, my mind eases away from the emotional drainage that had taken place earlier in the day. And once I down my Gatorade, I start to feel a little better physically. And by the end of the work day, I'm feeling better, just exhausted, mentally and physically. 

But as I drive back home, I feel defeated for letting my illness get the best of me and guilty for being such a big baby about it.  Over the last almost two years, I've done a great job learning how to cope with and manage my sickness. I've used 2.5 sick days since I started this job (6 months ago) and 1.5 of those days were due to a stomach bug, no relation to my leukemia. Luckily, when I feel the worst is generally in the evenings or on the weekends, so it doesn't interfere with my day as much. But it's in those moments where I feel like my illness is controlling me and my life that are the hardest. And it's in those moments that I feel defeated. 

But then I remember, those moments are few and far between. Thank the Lord. It could be worse, things could always be worse. And then I came upon an article, written by someone else living with CML, and it reminded me that I'm not defeated, I'm not a baby, and I'm not alone:

"The truth is, there is nothing easy about chronic diseases. At the best of times, they are a nuisance that we keep in mind, but at worst, they take hold of our personal and professional lives. My own career choices have at times been altered because of it. One of my biggest regrets will always be not being able to follow through on a dream because of it. So I adjust the sails, and try to compensate, and everything works out in some way, whether for the best or not. And we hold on until it retreats into the background once more. We hold on, and we hope for the better day. Because on those days, we are infinite." 

And I know tomorrow will be a better day.