Treatment Day

I have been doing some observing and pondering about "treatment day" for several weeks.   I have known for some time that when things are "hard" I don't usually think too much about them being hard.  For  some reason that doesn't empower me.  Later I can be very aware and acknowledge it.
In the week of my last treatment of part 1 of the chemo (mid-May), I realized and thought to myself that these treatments were getting the best of me, in fact the thought was "these treatments are kicking my butt". I don't remember even thinking that before about things.
Although it is reasonable, I still didn't realize that  it was harder to go for them.  A few days after the last treatment, my sodium level dropped and I ended up in ICU very sick.  That was a very difficult time.
Because it is what needed to happen, a week after being released from the hospital, I was back for the first treatment of part 2.  I was more than a bit skeptic that it would be better than I had experienced with part 1. I didn't realize how heavy 12 weekly treatments was to me.  So it came as a surprise to me that I was uplifted more than I had anticipated after that first treatment to find that I had only 11 treatments left.  That number 12 was looking and sounding insurmountable to me, since then each week I have found more hope as the number gets smaller.
I noticed something else those first few weeks of part 2.  I noticed that I didn't feel well on Monday or treatment day itself.  When I saw Dr. Bott the first week of the new treatment, I remember telling him that I just didn't feel well. I had no specific pains or areas of discomfort.  My blood work and exam indicated that I was fine to proceed, but I felt lousy.  I had pondered that Monday whether I would be able to have the treatment and had mixed emotions about what I hoped would happen.  I didn't want to have it, thinking it would be great to feel better with another week without treatment.  On the other hand it would only push the treatments out longer.  The next week, first of June, I felt bad on Monday and went in for some fluid, thinking I was dehydrated.  Somewhere in that week and the ones that followed I began to realize that it was hard psychologically to go for the treatments even thought I wasn't consciously thinking or talking about it.  On the way to one of my treatments, I did talk to my friend about it.  She posed the idea that my body knew it was going to get poison and wasn't happy about it.  I know that may sound a bit weird, but I feel there is truth in it.
Since that time, I have begun to acknowledge that I find it hard to go.  I don't dwell on it.  I just acknowledge that is how I feel.  A few weeks ago was harder than the others had been, so I prayed for the courage I needed to go.  Since I have been acknowledging it, I have felt better on those days.  I don't feel great, but I do feel better than I did on previous treatment days.

This isn't one of mine, but one I received.
I'll try to get a pic of one from my small rose garden.