21. 2nd Phase Treatment
Sounded like a milestone cleared when they tell you that now I am onto the 2nd phase of the long treatment. I almost hear people cheering & clapping their hands behind me as I race towards the pink ribbon which frees itself & wraps around me as if in a hug. But wait, no one tells me that at the end of the race there is a pit. A steep black one; I hardly could brake my legs to stop. I try to grab the pink ribbon but is wrapped around me, as though willing to fall into the pit with me. I hit hard.
Then I heard someone yelling, “I told you it is going to be the toughest of all the treatment”. I wasn’t prepared for the depth of it. I have been encouraged by my determination, my smiles, my energy, my crazy behaviour that I can manage anything. I was supposed to be strong. Everyone around me saw me as one. How I hated that word. Strong doesn’t mean you would be weak to say you are not.
They say 2nd phase despite being chemo but a different kind of chemo. No more permanent chemo port which was a relief indeed, but bearable enough to stick in a needle in your arm. Don’t know why they always say, it is only the plastic that is inside now, have removed the needle. What is the freaking difference? You are still puncturing my poor skin! All smiles as I get my chemo, met a family who was there to support their love one going through cancer treatment, cracked some jokes, made them laugh. I was high on cortisone I guess or maybe not. Probably me trying to be strong!
After 3 days, I landed in the pit. If I were to describe in simple terms, it was like a drug addict trying to go cold turkey. Someone trying to kick the habit. I would walk & suddenly I would feel like someone stabbing some parts of my body & I would buckle. I would buckle several times. Drop to the floor, the soffa in cruciating pain. Curl up and lie in that position for a while. This was the scenario the whole day. What more, it stole my appetite, bottling it & casting it away in the ocean! Okay, too dramatic there, I live near a lake, but it counts as ocean when I am feeling shit. Soon I was eating like a bird, sipping ice-cubed drinks, walking around like not knowing what to do next or where to go. I played the same song on repeat to rock me to sleep during the day time. Parents with small children, it works! But that was not me! I am strong, right? Freaking cancer took away my entire strength this time. It was suicidal. My bed room was my sanctuary, even though I couldn’t sleep peacefully. I tried to mentally dream, mentally flirt but hell the alien tried to take away my music. All the men in my dream looked like characters from outer space & hell they couldn’t dance.
Then you wonder, if mum was around, would she have suggested home remedies or tell me to stop the treatment completely & go with dignity. Home remedies of course but my soul was saying otherwise. I couldn’t see myself so broken; I was mentally preparing to cancel this treatment. I needed help. First, my oncologist prescribed morphine tablets for short term use. Then 3 good friends (you know who you are) and my daughter tried their best to cook/shop hoping I’ll eat something. After much attempts, I could swallow the mashed potatoes with one meat ball & chilli sauce; curry puffs with chilli sauce; sugar coated doughnut without chilli sauce, thank you. But I woke up one morning & the picture that came to my mind was the traditional “sick food” that we had as kids, back home in Malaysia. It was kanji (porridge with over-cooked white rice & water) together with lime pickles! Strange, at the end of day, culture plays a role; you go back to it: Ever thought why we say ‘go BACK home’ & not just ‘go home’? Anyway, I had that for lunch/dinner for 3 days plus the much craved typical Indian lamb soup. After 4 days of medicine/warmth of caring people, I was back on my dancing feet; I literally put on my heels & learnt a few bachata steps. All my mental dance partners were standing in line again. Energy!
I have 2 more treatment under this phase, but at least now I know what to expect. Hope the pink ribbon at the end of the line still hugs me but pulls me up quickly. Not going to be a super strong person; it is okay to be weak because it is not by choice; it is strong to ask for help. And also keep holding on to the invisible hand that is always there….I was pulled up by love. Thank you to all who checked on me.
P.S. apart from the knock-out punches, there was also nose bleed, itchiness on my toes and fingers: almost like removing cancer from the body right?
I heard the Whispers of soul ….”love will pull u up”
July 2022