Tough day

So I have cancer.

Not a good day, folks. I was hoping three days after chemo I’d be bouncing back. As it is, I’m getting winded walking to the bathroom.

I was getting to the point where I could walk around the perimeter of my apartment complex with a walker and even take a few unassisted steps in my room. Today, I can’t.

My stomach hurts. My knee hurts. I’m feeling bummed out about everything. I can’t pretend to care about much right now.

It’s frustrating to have what little progress I had taken away from me. I keep hitting on this point, but it’s something I completely believe: if I had only broken my leg and/or had the diabetes complications I could cope. Toss in the big C, and I find myself pushing a boulder uphill.

And today was the day I gave up my cats. I just couldn’t give them the attention they needed, and this is the best for all of us. Especially Annie, who gives a new definition to the word “needy.” My other cat, Buster, I had had since he was a couple of weeks old. He’s getting up there in cat years. The shelter they went to is no kill, and I’m assured they will find a good home, but I will miss them.

I knew this was going to be a tough road. And this is obviously one of the tough stretches.

I feel like I’m being evicted from my own life. Granted, it wasn’t much of a life, but it was mine. I got up, I went to work, I had Starbucks, I watched movies, I played video games, I went to sleep.

Now I take shots three times a day, I take drugs I will probably need for the rest of my life, I try to sit up and watch tv so I don’t lie down all day, I try to find interest in anything, and I lie awake until exhaustion finally takes me away.

I wish this journey was all inspirational, one big lesson to help anyone who reads this. But this journey is tough. I’m not giving in, but I also have to acknowledge the awful parts. And I have to let myself feel bad, I know. If I try to put up a positive front, I’d be lying and hiding from the truth.

I wish I could take a break from this new normal. Not be hobbling around on a bad leg. Not worry about what I eat. Not worry that another chemo treatment is around the corner, waiting to knock me back down.

I recently learned that the old expression about God not giving you more than you can handle is a myth. It doesn’t appear in the Bible at all.

I’m not saying God is putting all this on me to break me or even test me. One article I read said the difficult times are when you put all your reliance on God so you don’t have to rely on your own strength. That sounds fair.

But I’m only human. Part of me says nothing about this is fair.

I will press on. I will read some Scripture, listen to a sermon. Seek inspiration in survivor stories. Try to find the way from this dark moment and try to start again.

But this simple truth remains, and it will frustrate me for a long time.

I want something I can’t have.

I want my old life back.