If cancer was a job, I would have given my two weeks notice after my first day. Not that it’s a position anyone in their right mind is vying for, but I am just not cut out for cancer.
I am somehow allergic to every single anti-nausea drug on the market. I am allergic to just about every medication you can think of, (including fucking Benadryl!!), thus landing myself in the E.R. more times than I’d care to remember. It’s like anything that can possibly make chemotherapy the slightest bit easier does not sit well with me. And then there’s the damn chemo itself, which seems to affect me 10 times harder than it would an average person. We’re at the point where it’s unclear what is the best course of treatment for me because I’m “so sensitive.” Jesus.
I’ve been told that I’m “sensitive” my whole life, but usually it’s referring to my personality. Maybe it’s because I become emotionally invested or that I care very deeply about things. Maybe it’s because I’m a worrier and I over analyze everything. Maybe it’s because I cry easily and fall in love hard. Maybe it’s because I’m too nice and trusting. Whatever. I never saw being sensitive as a bad thing, but in this case…being sensitive sincerely sucks!
It’d be nice for once not to have a fucking complication or an unexpected side effect while I’m trying to get through this. It’s bad enough I have to suffer through all of this shit again for a second time for whatever reason, but can’t it be somewhat bearable?! It’s times like this I wish I was anything but sensitive. That I could be a stone cold bitch who feels nothing. But alas, I’m just the same old “sensitive” gal I’ve always been and it ain’t doing me any favors right now.