when i walk in those doors
September 21, 2016
i remember that first appointment with my main oncologist on january 18th. one of my best friends was with me, and i felt complete revulsion in my spirit as i walked through the doors of that building.
i don’t belong here, amongst these people – this isn’t me! i am embarrassed to share those initial thoughts that screamed within me. i don’t want to smile and meet their eyes; i want to sink down and sit in the hard dark feelings engulfing me.
i am so thankful that my heart has softened to the many that are walking this journey beside me, and i now love to look up and meet eyes and whisper hope even in my smile.
but i still detest walking in that building. and now there is another Factory – their second location where i typically received my infusions after chemo ended, and where i currently go every morning for radiation.
i underestimated the hit it would be on my heart and mind to start each morning at that place. i assumed that i could breeze through this, walk through those doors, quickly finish my radiation and be done for the day.
but the reality is that starting each day surrounded by and immersed in an environment of CANCER feels crushing. the physical aspects of radiation are real and increasing (that fatigue? it’s pretty unreal. and after the last few treatments, i am super dizzy when i stand up … which lasts for an hour or so and then hits later in the day or when i’m laying down for bed) … but those feel manageable. certainly the physical side effects are not as devastating as chemo.
but chemo was every 3 weeks; i only had to enter that place every few weeks. now, every day, the air of cancer treatment is smothering. the other morning, i sat in my van just tearful with dread and sadness.
i am literally counting this down … today was #12 of 33. october 20 cannot come soon enough.