1st Round Complete...only 11 more

It's 4:30 AM on Friday. Last week at this time, I was feeling pretty out of control. I had my first round of the rough stuff and that's exactly what it was. I dripped for 5 hours. The first hour was fluids, the 2nd was anti-nausea medicine, than came my first drug, than the 2nd, than another hour of fluids. These hours surprisingly weren't so bad, it was when I got home. My mom and Angie dropped me off so I could get some rest. I bet it wasn't a half hour before I was calling Angie bawling like a little child. It wasn't because I didn't feel good, it was because I felt out of control.
Foreign things had just happened to my body and there was nothing I could do about. When I have a headache, I control if I take 2 IB or  4. I can't control this. Thankfully, my sister had called and I couldn't cry with her on the phone. She of course talked me through my spell and magically stopped crying before mom and Angie could get back to me.
(FYI....it is now Oct. 31 and I am finishing this post)
The night of my first treatment, I honestly can't remember how the rest of it went. But, I do remember the next day. I went to school that Friday thinking that even if I didn't feel well I should get up and do something instead of lay around and think about it. So, off I went. I made it for a little while and than I couldn't stay. My head was somewhere, physically on my body, but mentally God only knows where. The best way I can explain how it feels is when you have encountered some alcoholic beverages beyond the point of feeling good. To the point where you really have no clue where you are, that at any moment you could lose your lunch, and when you try to think straight or focus on just one thing, everything goes blurry. I couldn't sit still, but I didn't want to go anywhere. It was like restless leg syndrome, but my legs were so tired, they were just impulsive. I went back home where I went even more crazy.
I couldn't be alone, I couldn't sit on the couch, in the recliners, lay in bed. I had to constantly move. I followed Angie around like a lost puppy, up the stairs down the stairs. I even went to her hair salon and folded towels. I would wait for her to finish up clients and even than I found myself fighting the urge to make laps around the shop. I was literally attached to Angie's hip. Friday, I didn't feel too well.
Saturday came and I think I slept all but one hour of that day, must have been the constant moving that exhausted me. Or could have been the Chemo. Sunday was the worst day. Angie had to go to the boys' soccer game so my mom came and sat with me, still couldn't be alone and I felt like complete dog crap. We took a nap on the couch. This was the day I should have been eating and more importantly drinking. I tried, but it was very hard and eventually this day I got sick. Thinking that I would feel better in the morning, somehow we made it through Sunday. I again thought that I may as well try to go to work. This turned out to be a really dumb idea. I shouldn't have drove first of all, that too was like a long, hard night partaking in adult beverages. I was in a daze the whole way and feeling worse than the day before. I had those same anxious, restless leg symptoms and felt like a zombie. Two of my teachers ended up driving me back home and when I got there, I again got sick. Something wasn't right, so between my mom and Angie and my nurse, we decided I needed to get some fluids. Angie took me up to Des Moines and for about an hour and a half, I was getting more fluids pumped into my body. Eventually, I could actually drink a class of water and eat ice chips. I felt much better after that physically, mentally was a different story.
I knew somehow I needed to get my act together because I had my short treatment in a couple of days. I found myself in this deep depressive state and even told Angie that I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to sit through treatments and I didn't want to feel like I did. She pretty much told me I didn't have a choice :) this will save my life. Bed time couldn't come fast enough because with the help of Ambian, I drift off and for a few hours I have no clue, I just eventually drift off. It was this way until my next treatment. This treatment was about an hour and a half. My nurses came to visit and were concerned with my state of mind. They both gave me a pep talk and I did feel better. They promised me they would fix some things for the next round so that hopefully I won't feel as awful. I trust them.
That short treatment, piece of cake. I have been at work this entire week and I actually feel normal. It has been AWESOME. I love being back at work! O and I finally shaved my head. My next long treatment is in one week, so here's to 7 more days of normalcy and than I start all over........