Living

I have never been so sick. The chemotherapy I received last week did a number on my system. I felt extremely nauseous, weak, and dizzy. I could barely manage to swallow my anti-nauseous pills without gaging over a bucket. Something was and is not right. My new clean diet was just getting on track before my treatment. I was feeling so strong and like the person I knew before all of this ever begun. Yet now here I lay, on a couch, for days on end. Trembling over a slice of apple while crying because I just want it all to go away. I am my only advocate. I do not care if this new chemo I am on can sustain my life for 5 years (They haven’t said that by the way). What is 5 years living on a couch? That is not living, that is just surviving. I want to live. I want to be able to do everything I have always wanted to do and more. I want to be able to enjoy the company around me and feel the fresh air as it enters my nose. I want it all. This new drug is limiting me. It is a very hard choice when deciding what you should do when you are dying. I will not be able to please everyone. Heck, I may not please anyone in the process. At then end of the day I am only worried about myself. If I feel good then that is all that matters. It just does not make sense to me to go from feeling 100%, to poisoning myself to the point where I can barely move. I am not saying I am giving up on chemotherapy, but I am definately saying a firm “no” to the last drug that was pumped through my veins.