Today is my first infusion day. Though I have some idea what to expect in terms of schedule and activities, thanks to the chemo orientation class we took last month, I don’t really know what to expect in terms of my own personal experience — somatically, emotionally, and so on. I will find out as I go. If practical, I will tweet and liveblog the festivities, in keeping with my general policy of oversharing in matters personal and healthwise.
I’m calm this morning, so far. This is a metastability rather than true peace. I suspect a broken shoelace would send me either into a rage or desperate tears. Stress is an amazing thing. But here I am, neither in denial nor angry. Acceptance isn’t the right word, though. My frame of mind is more determined and grudging than that. I will own this, it will not own me; but in some significant ways, chemotherapy will be the hardest thing I have ever done.
My life is filled with love and support beyond reasonable measure. I have my family, especially
But now I must walk through a door I’d never have chosen, to a place I cannot come back from. All I can do is go forward. I have my love and my rituals; my family and my friends; my camera and my keyboard. With these tools I shall walk on. Someday I shall once more walk free.