Denise taisey
In her own words:
Cancer robs you of more than your health. It is a thief of mind, body and spirit. Once you have the diagnosis, you are changed forever. The label that you have it or had it becomes a part of your identity. And once you’ve had it, there is the concern it may return.
One of the hardest parts of this journey has been the loss of myself. My vitality and the ability to do some of the simplest things is never assured. Chemo affects your memory, in particular your recall. Sometimes it’s as simple as someone’s name. It erodes your confidence in your abilities. Most obvious to the world, is the change to our appearance. Chemo attacks the cells that duplicate. Our hair is a casualty of that. You can’t prepare yourself fully for that trauma. The hair doesn’t come out gradually, but rather in large handfuls at a time. It takes your breath away. For a woman in particular, our hair is part of our identity. We look in the mirror after chemo and wonder at the sickly stranger that stares back.
Cancer is a lot of waiting. You receive your diagnosis, and then you wait for what’s next. You wait for your insurance to authorize very necessary scans like a CT scan, MRI and for the very fortunate - a PET scan. You wait for test results and appointments with your care team: Oncologist, Surgeon and Radiologist. Once you get your treatment plan, there is more waiting. Waiting for scheduling for appointments for treatment. Waiting for your turn for labs, to draw your blood to test to see if you are well enough to withstand treatment. Waiting when you are not, and treatment is pushed out. Waiting for your turn with the doctor to get those results, and to discuss concerns and side effects. Waiting for a chair to open in the infusion center. Waiting for your drugs to be mixed and ready to be administered. Waiting for the next drug to be mixed and administered. Hours in the chair, waiting for additional lab results or doctors revised plans unique to your care. For some, like me, additional wait time for the mixing and administering of my take home pump. Waiting for the 46hrs that it pumps more drugs into us. Waiting again to have it removed when it’s complete. Always waiting for what’s next. Waiting on making plans. Waiting on if or when life will look like what we knew to be “normal”.
This monster is ugly and it’s treatment harsh and unpredictable. My journey has included three ambulance rides and life saving measures. I’ve developed allergies to two different shots that they use to boost your white blood cells. The WBCs are the cells that help us fight off illness. They duplicate, and are a casualty of chemo. My regime consisted of treatment every two weeks and the shots administered 2-3 times a week on my “off week”. Two of my trips were due to my reaction to those helpful shots. They are not an option for me due to my allergic reaction. And so I wait. I have to wait for them to boost on their own after treatment, resulting in the end date being pushed out as well. The most concerning was my allergic reaction to one of the drugs in my chemo cocktail. It caused my throat to close and stopped my ability to breathe.
They give you a list of possible side effects. My experience has been that it isn’t consistent nor predictable. Some are easily combatted with medication, others you just have to endure.
I’ve been blessed, in that this hardest bout, has come after my children were grown. A place later in life, when my working or not, didn’t impact us too harshly. We’ve experienced new financial burdens. The cost of healthcare now thru COBRA. The medical bills not covered by insurance. The loss of my income of course. But I can convalesce without having to worry about working or needing to care for my children. I don’t have to rally when I feel horrible to cook dinner for myself and my children. I don’t have to push thru to get my kids ready for school or practice.
The dollars we donate are a very real and tangible help. A help for medical expenses. A help for wigs or head covers to help someone feel better about that person in the mirror. A way to have a meal delivered when they just can’t rally. Money for a ride, when you don’t trust themselves to drive.
Thank you for what you are doing to make a difference.
Respectfully and gratefully,
Denise