Last Thursday marked the half way point of my rads. They did a few X-rays to make sure there’s no swelling and that the tattoos still line up correctly. And then on to the zap zap. 

Today was my 14th radiation treatment and it is definitely getting roasty toasty at the rad site. I’m applying calendula lotion a few times a day and a thicker balm at nighttime. It’s not really painful unless Harlon tries to wrestle me. Soooo it’s often painful. 

Remember how I said they play music in the radiation room? Well today they were playing some awful smooth jazz/ love song mix. Not my fav and then on came Chicago. I hate Chicago. I don’t hate many things but that band makes my body want to find remnants of my lunch from last Tuesday and vomit it right up. Thankfully they changed it (to some smooth Kenny G) but not without giving me some shit. I was taking to Chuck, one of the techs, about how toasty my radiated area is getting. He said “Well you know what really helps? Putting a little Chicago on it.” 
I’ll burn. 

After radiation, I literally ran across the parking lot to my oncology appointment to make it on time. Man, I was winded. But I’m pretty sure that the non-boob deal shaved off 1-2 minutes, so that’s cool. Bonus- no obnoxious boob bounce to control as I sprinted. 

It’s always nice to see my oncologist. She reassures me each time that things are looking great. Today we discussed starting an oral chemotherapy drug called Xeloda since there were residual tumor cells left from my previous chemo found during surgery. I would begin sometime after radiation. The side effects are minimal compared to the Taxol/Carboplatin and AC. This one may include fatigue, GI issues, hand and foot rash, and mouth sores. I can deal, I have been through worse. I left her office feeling optimistic. 

When I was pregnant with Wyatt, I was crazy sick. I mean, I was super sick with Harlon too. Vomiting all day long, super dehydrated and all that jazz. But with H, it went away around the 4 month mark and I was on my way of eating each Orange County In’N’Out out of all their double doubles. Fun fact- before being pregnant with H, I didn’t eat meat for several years. 

With Wyatt, it never stopped. I would puke wherever, whenever. It interfered with my job, my family, it was rough. At the same time, I realized that I was insanely depressed. Like scary depressed. Luckily I had the most amazing midwife and she helped me through it. I was prescribed Zoloft and that was the best thing that could have happened. My only wish is that I would have started it sooner. It didn’t help with the nausea but it helped with the panic that came along with the sudden urge to vomit in random places. Like the McDonalds parking lot. 

Looking back, with what I know now and talking with a therapist for several months, I definitely had post partum depression after H. I didn’t know it then. No one really talks openly about the yucky parts of parenting. Yes, poop and lack of sleep are common taking points but not so much about how mom is doing. Other than the occasional question of “did you tear?” Ouch. Everyone just seems so happy- life is unicorns and rainbows and baby giggles. I rode zero unicorns, saw no rainbows, and baby screaming replaced giggles for a good amount of time. I just thought I wasn’t a good mother and couldn’t hang. After H turned one, I began to mellow out and then BOOM baby Filloon round 2 was upon us. 

I had never felt physically worse in my life. I’d see men out in public and rage would fill me. Envy. I’d find myself grumbling while driving past them. A curse word here and there. They would never have to feel this awful because they would never be pregnant. Jerks. 
Sometimes I feel a similar anger in regards to C. But it’s a little different now. Like last week, I saw a guy, super happy on the phone. My first thought was “what the hell is he so happy about?” I had to physically shake my head and stop myself. What the hell was wrong with me? I would never wish this on anyone. Let him be happy! And what the heck do I know about his personal life? NOTHING! He might have his own mountain lion. But I hear misery loves company. I’m definitely not miserable but I was having a moment.  Thankfully I snapped out of it. 

The last part of the blog sort of went on a tangent. But the point is to let you all know that you see me in pictures and in person with a huge smile on my face majority of the time. (I smile when I’m nervous, scared, uncomfortable, happy, relaxed… I guess it’s the opposite of resting bitch face) but sometimes things are really hard. I’m not brave. At least that’s not how I’d ever describe myself. But if I have this sort of platform, I figure I can share whatever I want in hopes that it may resonate and help someone else. 

I’m tired. I hear 5 months of toxic treatments can do that to you. It blows my mind to think that we have been dealing with chemo since September, for as long as Wyatt has been on this earth. And even though I have technically had my last treatment, I’m still feeling the side effects of last week’s dose. The accumulation is gnarly. I can still taste the chemo in my throat. I can still smell it. I’m achy and exhausted. But each day it gets a little bit better. 

I’ve been having a hard time drinking enough fluids because everything tastes gross and I think it’s contributing to muscle cramps and fatigue. It doesn’t help that I’ve been laying in my bed for the last 4 days. Being curled up in the fetal position for that long can really cause some achy muscles. Even my bubble baths aren’t really helping. So today I forced my self to get up and go to yoga and I’m glad I did. 

It’s a healing class I’ve been going to, super mellow but I couldn’t even get through the whole thing today. I had to sit down because apparently putting my arms over my head was just too much and I got dizzy. My teacher is amazing though. She helps me with modifications each week and gives me overall support. Like mental support. Because, guys, I need it. I truly needed her her class today, even if it was just me sitting there, taking in everyone else’s positive energy.  

I have been feeling like now that chemo is complete, I really need to take my healing into my own hands. Do not worry, I am not giving up on western medicine. I just want to be sure that I am doing all things possible to beat this. And I like having some of the control… where I can. 

I am going to make more ‘me’ time to lower stress levels. This may be a stricter yoga practice, more baths, more leisurely reading. Whatever I feel that my body and soul need. 
In terms of my diet, I have already cut out red meat and I’ll be sticking with that. I have reduced my dairy intake a TON which I never thought I could do. And I’ll be working on cutting it out completely. I’ve admitted in the past, treats are my weakness. I’ve have been doing pretty well with not eating refined sugar but I need to get way serious. 

So….wish me luck. Sugar is like the fucking Devil man. 

Today was my last chemo! And thankfully so because that shit sucks. You may have seen me jumping for joy on either Facebook or Instagram earlier. 😜That ‘Last Chemo High’ was short lived though. I’m already tired and popping those anti-nausea meds and my jelly joints are back. But LAST ONE!!!! No more, always surprising, red pee! Woot Woot! 

I couldn’t even look while getting my final dose of the Red Devil today. Just the thought of it makes me want to puke. We slowed the Cytoxan dose so to not screw with my sinuses as much. It helped. A little. At least, it made me a little less woozy and snotty than before. Although, at one point I did yell out “I hate this shit!” By the time I realized I actually hollered it, John looked at me a bit shocked. I shocked myself too. Hopefully I didn’t scare any other patients. I mean, I had just met a guy about 30 minutes before who was telling me today was his first treatment. I was all positive, telling him he’s got this. Now I’m blurting out how much it sucks. Sorry dude. But you do got this. Even though it may suck sometimes. 

I’d really like to holler a big Fuck You and peace out to the big C but I’m not quite there yet. Next up, it’s surgery time, still on the schedule for March 21. After that, I think I’ll feel like I’m over the hump. Maybe. What do I know? Then on to radiation. Five days a week for 5 weeks. 

My hair has started to grow back a little bit. It’s pretty fuzzy and looks light. John, lovingly, has been calling me elephant head. 🐘 A fellow survivor in my yoga class thinks it looks like real hair, you know, like the kind that’s going to stick around. That would be cool. But we’ll see, this last treatment might scare it all away again.

I see my oncologist next Thursday so I will have more updates at that time. Stay tuned. 
Fun fact: A different lady in my yoga class came up to me when I was rolling up my mat yesterday. She told me I was striking. When I took off my hat, she felt like she was watching an exotic model do yoga. Guuuuurrrlllllll, thank you 🙌🏻 (Insert hair flip 💁🏻)