Perhaps one of the worst parts about chemo is the nausea that comes with it. There’s nothing as exhausting and miserable as being nauseous. I don’t mind throwing up (in fact, I welcome it because I know I’ll feel a bajillion times better after I purge the ole system) but feeling like I’m gonna barf and not being able to is the worst.
The good news is that this time around they’ve managed to find me a concoction of meds that entirely alleviates my queezyness. As a result, I’m eating a shitton more than I have the rest of my other treatments combined. And I fucking LOVE food, so being able to eat is beyond amazing.
However, with eating more comes pooping more. I’ll be the first to admit that I love just about nothing more than a quality shit. But I think subconsciously my gut knows that I’m not home, and therefore it’s harder (hahaha! No pun intended!) for me to poop. There is no poop as satisfying as pooping in the comfort of your own home. Don’t even deny it. “Riding that porcelain pony” as it were (a phrase I’ve recently been informed of thanks to a dear friend’s father), is a delightful experience that, at least for me, can only be fully enjoyed in the comfort of my own home. There is no laxative as strong as walking through my front door and knowing that I can poop in peace.
There must be a copious amount of factors that go into being comfortable enough in an environment to poop. In fact, I’d love it if there were studies done on the subject. As far as I know there probably already have been studies done on the subject… anyway, let’s get back to it.
When I’m not “comfortable” enough in a location to poop, there is often only one result: constipation. Which goes back to my realization that there really is no laxative as strong as walking through my front door. Surprisingly, though, this time around I’ve been able to drop a deuce relatively easily– meaning I haven’t had the assistance of a stool softener or laxative in a while. The poops themself, though… oooooo-eeeee! Talk about dense mother fuckers! I’ve gotta dig deep and suffer through labor with those sons of bitches. They require so much effort, that afterwards I’m ready for a nap. Those things are made of lead. My butthole is like out of commission for a day after dropping those bombs; even farts are too much for the poor puckered hole.
Yesterday, though, I got a leave of pass which allowed me to go home for several hours. I’ll have you know that as soon as I passed through the threshold, my body fuckin’ knew. My gut alerted me that it was time to “exorcise the demons” from my body (well, the shit demons. Not so sure about the cancer demons). So up the stairs I went (the first flight of stairs I’ve encountered in several weeks) and right into the bathroom where I dropped a bomb that could have leveled Nagasaki all over again.
The real reason that I was able to get out of the hospital for a while, though, is because my Aunt passed away quite unexpectedly. It was (and still is) a huge shock to the family, and her absence will continue to be felt, though her spirit and smile will live on in our hearts and memories.
I don’t for one second regret attending the funeral. It was an honor to attend, and to have known her. In fact, I think I owed it to her to go, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
It was heavy, though. So very, very heavy. And it would have been heavy, regardless of what I, myself, was going through. But it weighed on my heart particularly hard because of the situation I’m in.
I try to keep positive and looking on the bright side, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have my moments of darkness. Usually they come in fleeting moments– passing after I shed a tear or two. But I was kind of scared to go to the funeral because I was afraid that I’d let in some kind of darkness, some kind of weakness that would take hold of me. I don’t think anything scares me as much as letting in weakness.
As heavy as it was, though, and as much as it weighed on my heart and, admittedly, filled me with fear, the day ended on a good note. It takes a special kind of person and a very special kind of love to be able to transform a heavy, lead heart into a weightless heart overflowing with love, joy, and life. To eradicate any fear and weakness that has taken ahold; to set a heart free.
This post was crazy and all over the place, but I intend to elaborate on this special kind of love in one of the upcoming posts. Stay tuned!