The Deity of the Waves – Thoughts on Chemo and the River Within

I had three dizzy spells today.

I was sitting for one, standing for another and walking in my apartment for the third. The dizziness and nausea passed quickly and each time I was able to hold on to something to stable myself. I was doing a different thing each time, so there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it.

I know that I’ve been through this before, after all this is my second round with Mavenclad. The thing is, I don’t have any concrete memory of what it was like last year, just this vague memory of feeling unwell and sick during my first round with the chemo drug. I remember isolating during the holidays season as a precaution, but not much else. I don’t remember what symptoms I lived with during that time.

I remember each fall I’ve had though. Those falls began after I had chemo. They would start with a sudden dizziness and when I tried to get up and go back to bed, the dizziness would be followed by the loss of all motor control and a complete black out with no memory of how I ended up on the floor, just the sound of my voice calling out as I fell. All of my doctors say that Mavenclad doesn’t produce those kinds of symptoms, but I’ve never fallen like that before.

I knew that this second round would be different as my body is still dealing with the affects of last years treatment. I’ve had a variety of symptoms that differ by the day including absolutely crushing brain fog, dizziness, pain, fatigue, nausea, forgetfulness and hair loss, some of them starting on the day I took the first couple of pills. I’m a lot more wary this time around, knowing what it can do. Either way, it certainly been an adventure.

There’s one thing on my mind this time around. Even now as I sit here writing this, my immune system is shrinking and shutting down. Eventually, I will left with a little barrier, much like those pawns that protect the real players on a chess board. I like to picture the shrinking of my immune system as a tide, gentle one moment, crashing the next, followed by the calm of silence.

Four months from now, I will have to be real careful and I will have to isolate myself, at least for a couple of months while my immune system regrows itself. Then there will be an MRI to set my baseline and then another to let me know if the Mavenclad did anything, or if I will need another round of chemo next year.

I choose to think of those two months that I will be isolated as guard duty for the deity of the waves within me. I will have to protect the water within, watch the ebb and flow as it starts to grow again. When the deity regains enough of its power, I will be there to watch it flow into the dry soil that my body will become, ready to protect me, just as I have protected it.

While I wait, I just have this feeling of uncertainty within me. I don’t know what is in store this time, but I’ve chosen to sparkle and focus on the positive things in my life as well as the power of laughter. I have experience with toxic positivity and I won’t engage in that kind of behaviour again. I don’t want to use joy as a cover or a mask this time, but as something to help me heal and find light in the darkness.

I figure with every laugh, every moment that makes me smile, it will help the deity of the waves find its way back home to me once again.

About Jamieson Wolf

Jamieson an award winning, number-one bestselling author. He writes in many different genres. Learn more at
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