The Red Devil

The devil went down to Kentucky. He was lookin' for a soul to steal. He was in a bind 'Cause he was way behind and he was willin' to make a deal. 


Well the devil made his appearance and I’d say he had a temporary win on February 5th when I started my next round of treatment with a new drug. We knew the last four scheduled treatments with the A/C drug (Also known as the red devil... does the beginning paragraph make a little more sense now?) had the potential to be a little harder on my body. It has been referred to in my survivors support group as “the atomic bomb” of breast cancer Chemotherapy. However, there were patients who had A/C with no troubles at all. So I held out hope, said tons of prayers, cried a lot with anxiety for days and waited to see what happened.

This lovely red poison was inserted into my port and my amazing nurse, Amy occupied me with her positive spirit and encouraging words so that my anxiety didn’t get the best of me.

That same night I started to feel the effects of the red devil, and let me tell you... it was worse than I could have ever imagined. I felt like I was in my first trimester of pregnancy with the worse hangover, and flu all at the same time. Even just one of those is enough to knock you down.  At that point I started to wonder how I was going to make it through the next three treatments without completely falling apart. I had a small pity party and cried the night away, trying to figure out how I was going to get through the next 6 weeks. Fast forward 10 days later and I was ready to call the doctor and tell him I was done. I’m waving the white flag, take me out of the war. I surrender. I couldn’t fathom how I had gotten through 12 rounds of chemo, with what I’d like to consider a positive attitude, and then over night it all went out the window. I didn’t know how to find a positive outlook in the sickness that the new drug caused. Not only was I one bad smell away from upchucking the food I wasn’t eating, but my skin was so sore to the touch that putting on clothes made me cry. My stomach was so bloated that I looked like one of the Ethiopian children you see on television that are malnourished with a baby bump. (No you can’t sponsor me for just ten cents a day.) And eating was something that was unheard of, so how I gained 7lbs in 10 days is beyond me.



I had already arranged a follow up visit with my  oncology counselor (that’s a fancy way of saying my cancer shrink) to see how my happy pills were helping. That appointment couldn’t have come at a better time because there was no happy in sight. As I sat in the waiting room, with no makeup on, dingy clothes that I’m pretty sure I slept in the night before and feeling like I had been beaten with a baseball bat, my nurses came out to see me at my all time worst. (But how lucky am I to have nurses who visit me in the waiting room?!) I was slightly embarrassed at how I looked, and I was an emotional basket case. What I didn’t know then was that the hot mess that I was, was a blessing. It didn’t take long for them to see that I wasn’t okay. Spending weekly time together, month after month, you really get to know each other, and they knew by looking at me that I wasn’t my usual self.

They got me in to see the doctor after my couch session with the shrink, where there was SO much progress made. Not towards my happiness, because if I’m being honest that’s still pretty lost in the illness right now. But progress in how I was going to manage the next couple of treatments. After a 3 hour doctors visit mostly consisting of me crying with my nurses, I left with two new medications and a sigh of relief from the emotional stress I just poured out onto the amazing (I’ve said amazing before right? There’s legitimately no other word to describe how wonderful they are) nurses.


I woke up the next day an entirely different person. My skin no longer hurt. My nausea was minimal (in comparison to the previous week) and I had a moment of... I can do this. That is something I was really needing. I have to do this. There is no choice. I don’t get to throw in the towel because I don’t feel good. Of course I’m not going to feel good.  Chemo is hard!! I have poison running through my body. Killing good and bad cells alike. But I feel bad now, to be healthy later. And I had to give it up to God and let him take the wheel. Because I had nothing left.
  With prayer after prayer and encouragement from all of my supporters , I was able to wake up the next morning and feel like I can push through this next part of treatment. I accept that it will be harder than my previous treatments. And I accept that I need all the help I can get right now. But I also accept that it’s ok to not be okay right now. I know I’ve said that so many times, although I don’t think I really meant it. Until recently. I probably mean it now because because I’m not ok, and there’s not other option. But I will be. And that’s enough to look forward to, to get me through this next stretch.

I said, "Devil, just come on back If you ever want to try again. I done told you once you son of a bitch I'm the best that's ever been.”