Ring the Bell
By June, I had four rounds of AC chemo and five rounds of Taxol, and I was sick. I did not tolerate the Taxol well at all, and by May 13, I had severe muscle and bone pain. I couldn’t bend down; my back was so bad, so Brian bought me a grabber in case I dropped a dish towel or something. I couldn’t even take care of the dogs, as I couldn’t clean up after them or pick up their dishes. The day started with me making coffee. I couldn’t drink or even smell it, but Brian needed coffee in the morning, and it was a ritual. I brought him coffee in bed every day. I’m an early riser by nature, and I had my routine that I kept or tried to. I was able to make the coffee, let the dogs out, and clean up the kitchen from the night before. Then I went into my office and got to work. Luckily, at that time, I had two projects to work on, and I didn’t have to go out and see anyone.
The nurses were surprised that I got so sick because Taxol is not supposed to be as rough on you as the AC chemo, but I was one in a million. My oncologist said he had never in all the years he has been practicing had someone get as sick as I was from Taxol. I would work as long as I could stay in my chair or as long as I had work to do. By the afternoon, I was in another world. It’s the only way I can describe it. It wasn’t particularly hot that summer that I remember. It was pleasant and sunny, and when I ran out of juice, I would go into my living room, which has large windows and a glass door that opens into the backyard. I would lie on the carpet and hang my legs out on the steps, feeling the breeze tickle me. It took the pressure off my aching back. And I dreamed sometimes on the floor by the back door and sometimes in my bed, and I dreamed, I dreamed of the days on the farm with my horses and dogs, and I dreamed about faraway places that I made up in my mind. I tried to concoct a story about a land where there is only peace and happiness and no cancer.
In the late afternoon, I would get up and start dinner for Brian and the dogs. He took off every day to take care of his birds. But he texted me every so often and showed up every night, by suppertime, with all of the dogs. I had all the dogs’ dinners ready, but Brian had to feed them as I couldn’t bend down with their dishes. Brian and I would eat dinner together. Well, Brian would eat, and I would slurp my soup and muscle down some Ensure. He would try to find something on TV that he thought I would like, and we started watching Yellowstone. I could not get comfortable easily. I had to lie on the floor with a yoga wedge for my legs to take some of the stress off my back. I tried to stay up until 9 or 10 so I would sleep all night. My oncologist prescribed oxycodone for my pain. I would only take them at bedtime. It’s funny, he was so worried about prescribing an opioid when I had cancer. What could be worse than that? Most nights, I could sleep pretty well thanks to the oxy, but I had to sleep on a heating pad as it eased my back pain.
During the week of June 7, Brian told me he was going camping with some hawking buddies to get his head straight. I was in the middle of it all, the misery, the fear, the pain, and the sickness, and he is going to get his head straight. The biggest lie he ever told me. One of the filthiest aspects of this betrayal is that he involved my niece. He paid her some money, a pittance to come up and help me with the dogs while he was in Tennessee romancing the woman he would betray and abandon me for. He used her as he used me, and she was innocent, but then again, so was I. He lectured her about taking care of me as he left me with eight dogs. I am so sick I can barely function. Imagine lecturing her during this treachery? How dare he? He was gone for an entire week, and my niece came, helped me, and did not need a lecture from him about anything. She helped, but it was I who took care of them. I cried myself to sleep every night, wondering how he could leave me that way, and it was his cousin Tammy who said, Are you stupid? He isn’t with his buddies; he has no buddies. He is with a woman, and I thought she was crazy. My Brian would never do that to me. Little did I know how right she was.
By July, I am so sick I can’t even walk beyond my back deck. I tried everything to manage my symptoms. I took Epsom salt baths infused with lavender. I tried yoga and physical therapy to see if it would help my back. I went for acupuncture and even a blood transfusion, and finally, after my eighth Taxol treatment, I got to ring the bell. The doctor felt that it was time to stop, as it seemed to be doing more harm than good, and eight is the recommended minimum. I was so sick that I didn’t even understand what ringing the bell meant. It meant the end of chemo, and I almost walked right past it. The nurses all shouted Hey, Kathleen! Come on! You’ve got to ring the bell! I did, but I felt shy about it.