If you’ve been following along, you might remember my beloved water bottle, affectionately named Flow, went missing during an event. For those new here, Flow isn’t just any water bottle—she represents every chemotherapy treatment I’ve endured. She’s adorned with motivational stickers, affirmations, and reminders of strength that carried me through some of my hardest days.
When I realized Flow was missing, it felt like a piece of my journey was gone too. I reached out to the event organizer, hoping for a miracle. After five long days, she finally confirmed they had found my bottle. Relief washed over me, but my mind couldn’t rest until we were reunited. A few days later, the stars aligned, and I finally had Flow back in my hands. That reunion? Pure joy.
During Flow’s brief disappearance, another water bottle—Nova—joined the family. But since Flow has earned royal status, she’s now officially retired from field duty. Her new home is the “Queen’s Castle” (a.k.a. my home), while Nova will take on all future adventures, earning her own collection of motivational stickers that symbolize new beginnings.
Round 6: The Rough Patch
Round 6 of Capecitabine came and went, but not without its challenges. My hands and feet became severely dry, and the cracks in the folds of my fingers felt like tiny paper cuts that burned with even the smallest movement—turning a doorknob, typing, or washing dishes. Moisturizers seemed useless; they only made my hands shiny without truly soaking in.
On some nights, I’ve resorted to what I call my Velvet Armor treatment: a thick layer of Aquaphor, followed by Z’s Velvet Armor cream, sealed in with latex gloves overnight. Not exactly glamorous—but effective enough to help me get through the pain.
After two grueling weeks on Capecitabine, I finally had my off week, and it was glorious. No pills. No nausea. Just a small taste of normalcy.
Labs, Praise, and Reality
Friday rolled around, and it was time for labs again. If you’ve been keeping up, you already know my results tend to fluctuate like Florida weather—completely unpredictable. Still, I’m hanging in there and cleared for Round 7, which begins tomorrow.
I was back with Nurse Marti, who praised me for “tolerating” the full Capecitabine dose (eight pills daily). I couldn’t help but ask what exactly she meant by tolerating—because let’s be honest, it doesn’t always feel that way. She explained that many patients have to reduce their dosage due to painful side effects, like intense foot pain that makes walking unbearable.
Am I suffering? No. But do I have my moments of discomfort? Absolutely. I’m doing my best to hang on, one round at a time, while quietly wondering if my body and mind will ever fully feel like me again.
A New Curveball: Lymphedema
As if cracked hands and chemo fatigue weren’t enough, I’ve noticed swelling and tightness in my arm—possible signs of lymphedema. Why? Why? Why?
Nurse Marti wasted no time scheduling an ultrasound to rule out blood clots before referring me to physical therapy. PT will teach me how to massage my arm to move lymphatic fluid and fit me for a compression sleeve. It’s amazing how breast cancer keeps finding new ways to challenge me. These are “gifts” I never asked for—but here we are.
Finding Hope Again
After my appointment, I attended a Breast Cancer Awareness event I’d been looking forward to for weeks. It was such a breath of fresh air. Members of my medical team spoke, and the event featured chair yoga, a soothing sound bath meditation (which I loved), a live cooking demo, and a delicious plant-based lunch.
I left feeling refueled—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Then it was off to my ultrasound appointment, where I received some great news: no blood clots!
Now, my focus is on reducing the swelling, improving my range of motion, and gearing up for Round 7. At this stage, all I can think about is the finish line.
Reflection:
Flow is home. Nova is ready for new adventures. My body is still healing. My mind is focused on finishing strong. Each round brings me closer to freedom, and for now—that’s enough.
One response to “Welcome home, Flow!”
My Dear cousin, your journey has given me an opportunity to view your story from the inside out, regardless of how you’re feeling you display such dignity and grace while publicly exposing some of your most painful and intimate moments, MAY THE GOD OF YOUR UNDERSTANDING CONTINUE BLESSING YOU BEYOND YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATIONS, LOVE COUSIN TONY ❤️