Treatment Days

Treatment days are always interesting days. This lab is similar to chemo labs you might have seen before. Several recliners in a big room with people hooked up to some sort of liquid. In my infusion lab there are 8 chairs. I have them ranked from the best spot to the worst spot. The best spot being the chair in its own little corner away from everyone else. There is no window so it's dark while you sleep. I love this chair and I feel like I'm in my own little hole. The worst chair is the one in the back corner of the room next to the bathroom wall. All day you listen to everyone potty and flush. It's gross. Today I am in chair 3 out of 8. Not bad. 

There are two nurses that work in this lab. They are here all day every day. No lunch break. No conference or break time. They are pretty awesome ladies. I have dubbed them good nurse and bad nurse. Bad nurse is the sweetest little thing I've ever met. She is one of those older ladies that calls everyone sweetie, beautiful, doll, etc. She is probably the nicest nurse I have ever met, however she cannot put an IV in to save her life. At my first treatment she forgot to take a clip off of my IV. While twisting and turning the IV, that is already in my arm, to try and get this clip off, she kept shoving the needle further into my vein. I passed out. Rory sat there and watched all of the color leave my face and my eyes roll to the back of my head. At first I thought I passed out because I was so sick at the time. I've come to learn that she has a hard time with almost everyone's IV. I come here every 3 weeks so I am on the same schedule as other people. There are two younger men (young being 40s around here) who give bad nurse a hard time every time she botches an IV. So for the first 30 minutes I'm here my anxiety is pretty high. First because I want a good chair and second because I want good nurse. Good nurse knows how scared I am of bad nurse. She usually jumps up to come do my IV each time I am here. I love good nurse. 

My favorite part about my 6-8 hour days in this lab are the characters that join me. I am by far the youngest person here. A majority of the people have MS or lupus. I have only met one other person who was diagnosed with the same thing as me. I love to watch people. I don't talk much while I am here but I've learned a lot just from observing. Some of my favorite characters include the lady who brings her entire sewing machine with her. I love to watch the quilts she creates throughout the day. There is also an older man who watches movies on his laptop. He wears headphones so he can't hear himself when he talks to the movies, and he does this a lot! Last time, just as I was about to fall asleep he yells "marijuana." It startled the whole room. Then there is the short lady. I swear this lady is 4'5". She must have the chairs numbered as well because she seems to always get my favorite spots before me. She sleeps a lot, which I can appreciate, but she snores. I mean this little lady can snore! I don't know how someone that small can snore that loud. I am always embarrassed for her. It reminds me of the feeling I get at karaoke bars. I literally break out in hives because I'm so embarrassed for the terrible singers on stage. I would die if I knew I was snoring like that in public. But the people who really annoy me are the loud talkers. I just want to sleep. I am not asking for silence but come on. My teacher instincts come out every time and I want to tell them to use their indoor voices, and sometimes I want to ask the nurse to give them more Benadryl. And these loud talkers just want to talk. To anyone. About anything. I feel sorry for them because maybe they long for human interaction. Maybe this is the only time they get out. Or maybe they are hard of hearing. Either way I wear headphones and it doesn't drowned out their conversations. It's annoying.

So after the IV is in and I take my 2 Benadryl I sleep. And sleep. I actually enjoy treatment days. I relax. As any mom of young kids knows, nap times are valuable things and relaxing is almost nonexistent. Now I've come to appreciate my days off here in this lab with my characters. It's treatment days that remind me of how lucky I am. I look around the room at other people who cannot walk well or have lost motor functions. There is no cure for what they have. There is a chance for me to recover to my old self. It's hard for me to feel sorry for myself on treatment days.

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Struggles

Two things I am struggling with lately...

1. Complete and utter exhaustion. I am talking about the kind of exhaustion that is unlike anything I've ever experienced. I know tired. Tired is a part of my life. I work full time, have 3 young kids and a crazy schedule. Tired is part of it. I am not tired. I am not sleepy. I am the kind of exhausted that makes you sick to your stomach. The kind that makes your limbs feel too heavy to move or your head feel like it weighs 50 pounds. This exhaustion has led into major mommy guilt. Now I am guilty of having this mommy guilt way before I got sick. I put too much pressure on myself to be the perfect mom, and I never reach that goal. But this guilt is different. I feel like I have a certain amount of energy to use throughout the day. I end up spending it on everyone else's kids instead of my own. I feel bad that I come home so exhausted that I can't function. This is not the kind of mom I want my kids to remember. This is also something hard for my younger ones to understand which makes it harder.

2. The word "can't." I hate this word. This word has never been allowed in my classroom, my gym, my home, or in any huddle. This word is weak and debilitating. I despise this word. However, this word keeps popping up in my every day life activities and I feel like it is eating at my core. I have never been the type to think I can't do anything. Even at 36 years old I believed I could still take those high school and college girls on the bball court. There are few physical activities that would scare me away from trying and you could bet your life that whatever it was that I was doing I was going to try and be the fastest, strongest or best at it. That is until January. For the first time in my life I CAN'T do things. My body just won't let me. Things that use to seem so easy seem almost impossible. I have never felt more unlike myself in all of my life.

So here is where the term "a new normal" comes into play. I am having to learn a new normal for me. I am having to learn limitations and new expectations. I am not sure when or if I will ever be like me again. It's an uneasy feeling when you lose a part of yourself, especially when you have no control over it. I am a huge believer in positive thinking. I believe positive things happen to positive thinkers. I have tried so hard over the past few months to stay as positive as I can. Then there are days where I just feel beat down. It's hard not understanding your own body. To not know how you will react to simple movements. I mean teaching movement is my job!!!! 

So here I am, 16 weeks since diagnoses and I am still struggling. But I am also still living, still getting stronger, still here. I am thankful for how far I have come and how much I've improved. The things I have overcome help me remember where I started.