Except there is no crest. There's just another bloody hill. Hills with no crest. No time to re-fill your "tank". Barely time to take your hands off the handlebars and gulp in some replenishing fluids.
This past cycle was a turning point in many ways. It included the "planned admission" to hospital where I endured three failed attempts to insert a canula whilst my three lovely KATs cavorted around the room, the registrar became increasingly agitated, my wonderful sister bit her tongue and Saint Mike maintained his usual calm demeanour and I wanted to close my eyes and float away to a land where there are no more needles and no more nausea.
It took two days before the magic cocktail of anti-nausea drugs was established. In my case the drug Cyclozine is the wonder drug that when combined with Zofran and fluids makes my nausea retreat. Unfortunately it can only be given by injection so I had a sub-cutaneous butterfly thing put in so they could inject it without more jabs.
I came home late in the week and without my new bestie (Cyclozine) I was back to wobbly - the nausea although not as bad as at the start of week 1 was still grim and my bowels go into lockdown so I was in a bad way over the weekend.
Getting back up and around my priority was to nurture my KATs because the hospital week had been really tough on them. Planned or unplanned, seeing your mum in such a low state and having to leave her side to go home wasn't much fun for any of them.
I decided to spend as much time as I could giving each of them one-on-one time and thankfully by the end of week 2 they were all in a much happier place.
I on the other hand commenced week 3 dreading the countdown to Friday's craptastic chemo day and the commencement of our next "hill". This hill was made all the more steep because I had an appointment to see the breast surgeon and discuss my double mastectomy which is to happen 6-8 weeks post-chemo.
Throughout this journey I have tried to focus on what's immediately in front of me. Consequently, this next surgery has been put in the "later" basket. Now it's front of mind and I am feeling quite overwhelmed by the prospect of having my old friends removed and a 12 hour reconstruction. Lots to organize and consider and hurdles to overcome re co ordinating the timing of my breast surgeon and the plastic and reconstructive dude. So far it's not going well.
My older sister commented that what I need is an advocate so I don't have to deal with their shit-fighting over fitting me in....she's a smart girl (both my sisters are very very bright!). Bring on the advocate I say. In the spirit of my bike riding analogy it's like someone jumping out of the underbrush, reaching out and shoving my weary arse up this bloody endless hill!
As you can see from the photos in this post, life goes on! My KATs are growing up amidst this turmoil and I couldn't be prouder of them. I continue to be surrounded by caring and thoughtful friends who have given us the metaphorical push up the hill at various points!!
To those who comment and read these posts you too are hands pushing us up the hill and for that I am eternally grateful:)