A Brain Cell Walks Into a Bar

I sat down to write this and immediately, audibly sighed, and typed, “Ahhhh, it's finally Friday.” It is, in fact, not Friday.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who does this almost every week. (And something about the time change — and chemo brain — certainly doesn't help.)

I used to deny with everything in me that “chemo brain,” the whole idea that chemo makes someone more forgetful or less able to concentrate, was total bull crap. This was, of course, total denial that I had this very thing, call it what you may. Now I'd say I have long-term chemo brain, radiation brain, opioid brain. Take your pick.

Ever since watching the Pixar movie Inside Out, I picture all of my organs, tumors, and bodily systems as little cartoon characters. So here I am, staring out my pitch-dark window (mind you, at a measly 5:00 p.m.), imagining my one remaining brain cell as a little man with a bald spot down the middle of his head, a thick dark mustache, a bow tie, and a prominent belly. He's straining to squeeze out every last drop of knowledge for the day. His face is bright red, his teeth are clenched, and spit is flying out the side of his mouth. His eyes are closed, his eyelids wrinkled in concentration. If I must live with a singular brain cell, I'm grateful to entrust my intellect to Brai(ia)n.

Enough of my Anatomical Pixar creations, or I'll have to introduce you to each of the many tumors I've given alter egos. (Shoutout to Disney… This could be your next top-selling film: The Little Mer-Metastasis or The Princess and the Pleurovac.) Better names are welcome in the comments.

Yesterday's dose of Taxol has me feeling better than I expected. For anyone currently on Taxol or who's had it in the past, what have been your biggest side effects?

I definitely lost my appetite for the first few days following treatment day. Yesterday, though, I was hungry after treatment, thanks to my weekly 10 mg dose of IV dexamethasone as a premed. I also somehow managed to sleep pretty much the entire day until it was time to leave for dinner.

I even had enough energy to go out for bar trivia last night, eat a burger (for the first time in months), and have my tried-and-true DC. For anyone who's curious, we came in fourth place. In other words, we missed out on a gift card by four points. Now I'm hooked and want to make this a weekly post-chemo ritual, provided I can keep up my stamina.

It's such a hard balance: having a social life, doing the things that make you happy and that really matter in life, while also making sure you're not going to completely crash and burn the next day from overdoing it.

There was no crash and burn today, but I did sleep until noon and rescheduled PT. (I am proud of myself. This week, I'm not feeling guilty whatsoever… something that changes week-to-week, sometimes even day-to-day.)

We all need rest days, and the day after a big fat poison injection into the bloodstream sounds like a pretty good time to have one.

Does anyone else ever feel guilty about taking rest days? How do you get yourself into the mindset that says, “You are deserving!”?

Everyone is different, but I try to remind myself of the countless bumps in the road (heck, complete tsunamis) that I've faced recently. That alone is enough to make me feel deserving of a break.

But regardless of what we've faced externally, our bodies are intrinsically deserving of love, grace, and compassion. Rest is part of honoring our bodies in this way. I think sometimes we treat rest as a reward for having done enough, accomplished enough, or endured enough. As though we need to reach some invisible threshold of exhaustion before we're allowed to stop. But our bodies aren't machines, and our worth isn't measured by our productivity. We are deserving of care simply because we're here, occupying these bodies, doing our best to live in them.

Happy Thursday, y’all. 💛🌙🌻🌟