Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical. – Yogi Berra

Two down, two to go. I may be halfway through the treatments as of last Thursday, but hardly halfway through the rest of the garbage that comes with the chemo treatment. The physical effects are only part of the story. The mental challenges are equally daunting.

Physically speaking, my second chemotherapy session was similar to the first. I fully expected it to be the same, so I can’t explain why I was disappointed when it didn't deviate. I felt fine Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Sunday I woke up feeling a little more tired, but no big deal.

And then it all hit me early Sunday afternoon; overwhelming exhaustion and a flu-like feeling. I NEEDED to sleep. I took a one hour nap (Napping for me is a rarity. I’m either sick or just ran a half marathon. And even after a half, I don’t always nap.) I woke still tired and feeling off. By dinnertime I couldn't stand for more than a couple of minutes before feeling woozy and needing to lie down. I decided to take my temperature just because…..sure enough, 100.5. Crap. Another stupid fever, just like last time. If it didn't go down, I needed to go on antibiotics. I called my doctor, who just happened to be on-call again this weekend. She gently reminded me that this happened last time and that perhaps it’s just my unique body’s reaction. Remain calm and monitor the temperature. Call again if it escalates.

I felt utterly defeated because of the fever. I wasn't going to let this happen again….right, because I have control over this…..silly girl…..still, I was disappointed. This is just another reminder that I’m not in charge. I am only a passenger on this bus. Suck it up and deal with it. Put on your big-girl panties and just deal with it. Ultimately, the temperature went down within a few hours and by bedtime, it was nearly normal. Whew!

By Monday, I was much better and the fever was gone. But now I was dealing with the emotional side of the chemo. I was grappling with the feelings that came after looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger; an old, mostly bald stranger. (For the record, I still have some hair hanging on. Sadly, it’s only the gray hair and for whatever reason, it’s actually growing. So, to recap, I have growing, sparse, gray hair on my head. Yup, I’m a bucket of gorgeous.) I changed my clothes multiple times before settling on a dress to wear to work and I still felt ugly. The steroids make me feel fat and the scarves make me feel old. Who is this person? Surely I’m not the one who is actually insecure about my appearance? Oh yes…it’s you, Kim. It’s all you…..my lack of activity, despite being given clearance for light running, certainly isn't helping. Truth be told, I’m afraid to start moving again. I haven’t run in nearly 2 months so I’m starting over again. I don’t want to exhaust myself too much, perchance it compromises my healing. Perhaps these are irrational thoughts, but they’re thoughts that are pervasive in my brain these days. I hate to admit that they are in my head; it only makes them real.

These feelings are not acceptable. What to do about it? Control and change what you can, find a positive in the day and let the rest go. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a snack that I wouldn't otherwise have, maybe give myself some private time with my glass or indulge in time game time with my kids. Maybe, just get my fat fanny moving again. Just find SOMETHING that makes me happy and reminds me that this too shall pass. Although I’m aware that I won’t always find the right thing to overcome these feelings, I continue do the best I can. Some days, the depression wins; some days, I do. Monday, the depression won. Today, it won’t. I may have lost Monday’s battle, but I won’t lose this war.

So today, I’m wearing pink. It’s bright and cheery and nothing like the gray and black I first put on this morning. Today, I only changed my clothes once.