Rock bottom hit in August 2008 or somewhere in there.
It was a period of time actually. Rock bottom is not one day. It’s a phase.
You want crazy? I had your crazy.
My husband and I had to give our son to my parents to care for while we were sick. We had to give up our son. That should have been enough. It wasn’t.
I couldn’t see my nieces and nephews, but I was hearing stories.
My man, Jon, was in the hospital and I couldn’t support and take care of him. I hear the nurses gave him “special treatment” though. Even when he is sick, he’s fine.
He, also, could not support me.
Jon had to continue to work despite his pain since a loss of insurance would have been catastrophic.
I lost my nursing license due to my lack of ability to work.
We were broke, with no bail out in sight.
I had forgotten a better portion of the summer. I spent at least 6 weeks in a blurry, drug and chemotherapy induced haze.
I met my doctor twice and didn’t remember. Still, to this day, I’ll have people run up in excitement to see me. I met them in July. I don’t remember, but I pretend I do.
I don’t think all of my providers believed in my amnesia, but I know I have no memories where I should. I know me.
I had, again, spent 8 weeks using every ounce of energy and waking moment trying to shower, walk, eat, and go back to sleep while trying to keep my food in.
Then I couldn’t keep my food in. I dropped weight. I had what is termed a “Class 3” reaction, meaning severe.
I’d throw up in the car, the street, the walkway, the department store, and any other store I dared to set foot in.
But I kept going, because I WAS GOING TO HAVE A SEMBLANCE OF A NORMAL LIFE.
If I lost my ability to move and do the things I love, I’d lost everything. I hope that will never happen.
I stopped my antidepressant due to a side effect of acid reflux so severe I’d end up in the bathroom forcing myself to throw up to alleviate the pain and the pressure.
I kept running my first transplant through my mind, thinking, I’m screwed. What happened last time will happen again. My body hates me. My disease wants me dead.
I felt like Job. I was started to wonder where my breaking point was.
Let’s hear it for rock bottom!
I did get a bail out in the form of TWO benefits for me to pay for my medical expenses. We received enough to pay for Jon’s too.
The people rallied on behalf of me!
I started writing in September after I decided I had nothing left to lose. I also thought I had nothing more to give.
I did not want to be judged and have people think I was misusing their funds. I wanted everybody to know how this happens to a young family and a strong, savvy, smart business woman with her entire future in front of her.
I got mad. Even back with Shakespeare remember, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
I didn’t want to go out like that, weak and scared. I wouldn’t let my last emotion be sadness.
I’d taken my beating. I needed to beat back. I started and I haven’t stopped.
I dragged myself out of my depression by my fingernails, with a whole lot of help from everybody. I had to give back and pay it forward. If I can lose everything and find it again, I can help others do it to, and I could share what I had left, me.
It’s all me, baby.
So let’s hear it for rock bottom, with out it, I wouldn’t be writing to you today.
Baldies' Blog began originally in the UK by a 26 year old journalist with a blood cancer on a mission to inform the world about bone marrow donation.
He has since died, and I took on the cause of making cancer care more transparent for everybody.
Cancer is a disease that will touch everybody through diagnosis or affiliation: 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed and 1 in 3 woman will hear those words, "You Have Cancer."
I invite you to read how I feel along my journey and
how I am continuing to live a full life alongside my Hodgkin's lymphoma, with me controlling my cancer, not my cancer controlling me.
I hope that "Baldies' Blog" will prepare you to handle whatever life sends you, but especially if it's the message, "You Have Cancer."