I talked to the oncology nurse about my hand and foot pain. She confirmed that it is PPE. Her advice? Try not to walk. She was very blasé about it.
Try not to fucking walk.
Oh, okay. I’ll get right on that. I’ll tell my three year old that he can take care of himself. I’ll stop working, and I’ll just stay in bed all the time. Sounds like a plan.
This shit has pushed me to my breaking point. I’m ready to go in on Friday and tell Dr. N that I’m done. Like Cartman: Screw you guys, I’m going home. How much more abuse can I expect my body to take? At what point are the side effects of chemo worse than an increased chance that the cancer will come back?
I don’t know what to do. I have a lot of thinking to do in the next week. I’m so angry. I want my life back. I’ve been very passive through this entire thing. I’ve done whatever they’ve told me to do, because doctor knows best, right? Even when my gut told me no, like with the axillary lymph node dissection, I did it anyway. I’m done with that. This has finally pushed me too far, and I’m really pissed.
I’ve been apologizing a lot for complaining about my symptoms, about being sad and/or angry. Well, fuck that too. This is a god damned nightmare and I’m tired of pretending like it isn’t. The other day somebody close to me (or so I thought) told me I should consider Pepto for my chemo related nausea. Like it’s just your run of the mill fucking stomach ache. I should have punched this person in the fucking mouth. Are you fucking kidding me? I take five prescription medications for this nausea and none of them work, but thanks for playing. You can shove your Pepto straight up your ass.
Something’s gotta give. I don’t know how much more I can take.