May 17, 2023
Approximately eleven days after my radiation treatments were completed and I stopped taking capecitabine, my body began to rebel a bit. Small little red bumps began to appear on my arms, my lower legs, and my bottom. At first they were small, almost like the little, unpoppable zits one gets in her teenage years, but then they grew, and quickly. In the course of a day they multiplied, got larger with 2 inch circles of erythema and edema surrounding tender, oozy centers. Upon standing after sitting for a period of time, all of the sores on my legs would painfully throb for several minutes, making it uncomfortable to walk. I tried all my dermatology home remedies, topical hydrocortisone, mupirocin, Cicalfate, and nothing helped. A call to the after hours line on the weekend left the on call physician stumped and I was told that if they got worse to go to the emergency room.
This event, this frustration with not knowing what was happening and the pain associated with these bumps, put me into the first complete breakdown I had since I was diagnosed in July. It took me 79 days for the weight of it all to come crashing through me.
I was sitting on the side of my bed, looking at my legs in the full length mirror we keep in the room. I looked at my legs, the horrific sores reflected back at me. I then looked at the reflection of my face and I just lost it. I began to sob, shaking so hard the mattress reverberated underneath me. My wails caused my husband to come racing up the stairs from the floor below, calling my name. He asked me what was wrong and I slumped over, in hysterics, swollen and red faced, tears streaming and in an inconsolable tone I replied, “I don’t want to have cancer anymore, I don’t want to be tired anymore, I don’t even recognize myself anymore, I just don’t want to have cancer anymore.” Time stopped as David held me in his arms, propping me up, steadying me and letting me cry until I physically couldn’t anymore.
To this day, I still don’t understand what caused those bumps. They eventually healed and any proof of their existence has completely faded away. But they were a good reminder of how important it is to process the emotions associated with a cancer diagnosis and treatment. Prior to this breakdown, I had brief instances where I would cry in the shower, or in the car when certain songs came on, but nothing like this. I needed this. I needed to mourn the life I was losing, that my life would never be the same again, that I would never be the same again. I needed to feel angry about it and let out all the emotion that had been building in the nooks and crannies of my spirit. Because I knew this too would eventually heal and any proof of its existence would completely fade away.
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