Pain is relative!!!!!

follow link I know at times it’s hard to read other people’s ordeals and  writting about my journey no be small ting oohh!!!. Don’t get me wrong it’s not always that bad. I mean do you know how many television series are out there???? So trust me staying in bed and watching series is not that bad. Yes chemo was exhausting and there was the occassional pain here and there. That’s how I thought of the pain. No matter how bad it was, it was going to stop. At some point it had to.

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I think what used to bother me the most was not being able to play around with lil man. Oooohhh wait stop!!!!!! Before some of you start saying “congratulations” and sijui what not he is not my son. And hold on please!!!!!!! Do not ask me when I will have mine (put that your question in a vault, lock it well well and throw away the key, abi!!).
Now back to little man. He is my brother’s son.

My little ride or die brother  is a blessing. I am so so soooo proud of the man, spouse and father he has become. He was there holding my hand from day 1. He has been my rock, my strength when I was lacking and above all my confidant.  He is such a magnanimous person (See what I did there? I didn’t forget, now thank me and today make sure  you use the word magnanimous in a sentence)
I am in way tooooooo many facebook groups and know that most women are not partial to their sisters in law (SIL). I however I’m not such a woman. When someone is as kind as my brother is, they need to be with an equally kind helpmate. My SIL is an amazing human being. They have been blessed with a bright, positive, loving, cheerful, witty, beautiful son aka “lil man”. Photocopy of his papa, carbocopy of his mama.

This lil man was the reason I kept smiling. No matter how bad things were all I needed was to look into those big beautiful eyes and I would forget my pain. The first week after each session was the worst. The pain and nausea made it  impossible for me to hold or play with him.  At times I felt like he could see how sad I was because he would  sit there looking at me almost like he knew what was going on. Those are the moments that killed me inside.

The more sessions I had the longer it took for my body to recover. Each session was worse than the previous one.  I knew I needed chemo but I did not want to go through it. I wanted it all to be over and done with.

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Session number 5 was not met with the usual “let’s kick cancer to pluto” enthusiasm. It would have were it not for the pain that my mind was doing jumping jacks for. I knew that the pain woud be worse than the quondam round.

That Friday I woke up  feeling drained but I went through what had now become “our tradition”. Music on blast as I got ready and yes you know it…….. Make up!!!!! You just can’t go to the hospital looking like you are sick. Lazima utoklezee… You need to look good at all times. Even when you are feeling like you got hit by a truck don’t walk around looking like you were actually hit by a truck. Life, lemon’s, tequila, waterproof mascara and stupid selfies: that’s all that I’m saying.

There should be moments in between gloomy thoughts when you are in a disney movie. Moments that have those annoying happy songs, birds landing on your shoulders and prince charming  cutting his way through thorn bushes. Don’t you hate it when that happens?? I mean back in the village I couldn’t make my way through the shamba without them thorns scratching my legs yet some prince just glides his way through a forest of thorns and comes out on the other side with milky soft skin and a perfect gluteus maximus!!!!!!! So so unfair………….
*end of rant*

Mmmmhhhh,,,, pain… such a relative term don’t you think? I mean before my operation and chemo my worst pain came in the form migraines but once the drip started and the pain hit my system that migraine did not seem like a bad idea.

Every single time I try to describe the pain I felt I get pulled back to that moment and even then I could not describe it. Then came the nausea, the dizzy spells, the hot flashes and those toilet visits that almost had me asking for a diaper. I wanted it to stop, I needed it to stop. I wanted to pull out the drip, I wanted to crawl on the toilet floor and sleep, I wanted everyone to leave me alone. I wanted so many things but most of all I wanted everyone to stop asking me if I was okey. I wanted to shout “Do I seem like I am okey to you? Do people that are ok vomit out their lungs?? Like come on people!!!!

I know they all meant well but I needed it to be over.

Just because the session ended did not automatically mean that I was going to feel better.
The rest of the day was just as bad. On the up side I did not have horse hair anymore so I was free to throw up as ungraciously as I deemed fit.

It was not by my own strength that I was enduring this. And each time I felt like I could not take any more pain, I was reminded that Jehovah was the one waking me up each day and that each day was a day I had made it through what I thought was the most painful day of my life.
Pain….. pppffff such a relative term!!!

So so relative..

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