Panic Attacks

I am writing again! That means I'm feeling better. Yay!

I'm here to talk about the panic attacks I've been having during injections. It's hard to understand because I've been doing this for two years. 

Maybe because of the Eposino that I was taking THREE TIMES A WEEK. The fluid was so thick that it stung so hard! But even for the blood tests, I've been having the same panic attacks. During injections, Doods and the nurses would try 6 and maybe up to ten times to get the work done, but I was crying and shaking and just so scared of the needles.

It's sad because I got a phrase during my first year in order to keep myself confident and brave, "a puff of smoke", and it did help a lot. It just goes to show that we have to have fresh revelations everyday to keep going and keep our spirits up. 

It's just hard to think that what I'm going through now is a puff of smoke. Maybe that is also one reason for the high emotions. After the second diagnosis, life has been like a gigantic and ultra-scary roller coaster. 

I am tired of injections, check-ups, and being always afraid. 

I am still adjusting to this new norm. I work on being happy, hopeful and calm....but I have yet to find that stable, immovable and unshakeable joy for this new life. 

Obviously, I do not dwell on anxiety and discouragement but they're kind of always at the background of things, trying to eat away my hope. But, "Thank you, Lord!", and "Thanks, Doods!" for always picking me up. 

Is there anything you can tell me? Please inspire me to not have those panic attacks anymore.

                                              

Hello Injections

"The little foxes are ruining the vineyards..." from the Song of Solomon, is the verse I'd use to describe the injections I get regularly. They are those little irritants that could possibly ruin my determination to survive this whole thing with cancer. 

I have probably gotten hundreds of them already, for blood tests, scans, chemo infusions, and the other procedures needed. It is a lot easier now than when I just started with my treatments. 

I now get blood drawn from my left foot for my regular blood tests because of the mastectomies I got for both sides to avoid complications. It isn't as painful as the doctors and nurses described it to be. I still ask them to count though, so I can prepare myself and inhale to make the procedure more tolerable. I still hold Doods' hand to gather strength and courage. 

I used to hate injections, and dreaded it so much. I never thought I'd be spending my life, at present, dealing with it on a regular basis.

                       

There were nurses in the past that gave me such a hard time. 
There was one, to cover up her incompetence most likely, who said right away that it was going to be hard since I already had chemo. She quickly assumed my veins had already collapsed. Because of her negativity and fear probably, she pricked me several times but still wasn't able to access any vein - one of those hospital visits that I wanted to punch someone in the face. She quickly blamed my treatments when I never had any problems with injections before. She had to call a more competent nurse eventually. This second nurse didn't have any problem with the procedure at all.

Another one, a nurse who's overconfident, quickly pricked me without doing the usual tapping to get the veins out. When she couldn't access, she imagined that I kept moving. I couldn't tell her, "I've done this a million times. I am already used to staying still...." Doods could only give her his blazing look. Again, somebody else had to replace her to access a vein. 

I am so grateful that in Cardinal Santos, and this isn't an advertisement, the nurses I've encountered there are all well-trained. I never had any problems with any of my injections there. Even with my chemo infusion through a port, when I felt getting stabbed before, it wasn't much of a problem there. 
Nurse Veejay....I have to mention her name 'cause I'm so grateful for her.....made it so easy for me. She did it with such precision and quickness that I didn't feel any pain. 

Why am I writing about this? 

My seemingly insignificant experiences with injections are a big part of my life now that it matters. It takes strength and grace from above to find the positive in something that causes me pain. It really is nothing compared to refusing to deal with cancer and just letting it take over my body. 

It has become easier for me as well to comfort my daughters when they  are facing something terrifying. I tell them, "It's ok. This is nothing. You are strong. You can do this."