Disclaimer:  This post is going to sound a little different than most of the others. It can’t always be sunshine and rainbows, right?

Today I woke up with what felt like a gray cloud over my head. It didn’t help that the sky was also full of them. Being happy and positive on gloomy days is always a little harder. Today seemed harder than usual. 

I don’t often talk about the side effects and negative things that I’ve been experiencing since this all began. I know depression can be a normal effect of a cancer diagnosis. I don’t feel like I am depressed; some days are just a little harder to get through than others. Lately, I’ve been having a lot of difficulty sleeping. And, as my husband and kids will tell you, a tired Jess is a cranky Jess. That, coupled with relatively constant body aches and joint pain, has me moving slower and feeling a little less positive than usual. 

Early menopause is another side effect that I brushed off when the oncologist was discussing the chemotherapy with us. I’m starting to think that I should’ve taken it a bit more seriously. Hot flashes are no joke. My daughter, when she’s feeling chilly, tells me that I’m so lucky to have them. I wholeheartedly disagree. My body temperature gauge only has two levels now:  freezing and on fire. I’ve always been the type to be cold no matter what so I was entirely unprepared for months (and I do mean months) of hot flashes that stop me in my tracks and keep me up at night.

To top it all off, I also ended up gaining a significant amount of weight since October. Now, the list of side effects said “weight gain or loss.” Most people expect a cancer patient to lose weight. Any movie that I’ve ever seen or book I’ve ever read that talks about a person undergoing chemotherapy depicts the patient in a certain way. The person seems to waste away whilst receiving chemotherapy. Weight loss is what we think of in relation to chemo. Sick people look sickly, right? A “plump” chemo patient is not what most people would expect. Well, let me tell you, it’s a real thing. That’s me right now. I feel plump, swollen, and mighty uncomfortable in my own skin. I will say that I was warned it might happen by another cancer warrior. I should’ve listened.

I like to know what’s coming so I can be prepared. I’m frustrated with myself for having the information but not believing it. I’m going to do better for this next phase (or try my damnedest).  But, for now, I’m going to let myself be sad for today so that tomorrow can be a better day.

If you’re undergoing treatment or preparing to begin, know that you aren’t alone. The side effects suck, they’re scary, but they are a means to an end. A necessary evil, if you will. As my husband says, better to be here and [bald, heavier, tired, etc] than gone.

Sometimes, the medicine you need most, is a good cry (whether you want to or not). So today I cry and tomorrow I continue to fight.