I have no idea, when this whole “cancer” thing is done, whether my body will be as it was before. I’m getting a growing sense that, like Gerry, I will ALWAYS carry the pain of the tumor in my back and the damage done by it’s growth into two vertebrae. Will I always be on pain meds to deal with the constant bone & spine pain? I guess these are things that will be revealed I I continue with my recovery. Which is a lovely word.
I’m overwhelmed right now, so I’m going to keep this brief. The dearest man I ever knew, my husband of 25 years, Gerry Landy, died on Sunday. It wasn’t entirely unexpected; he had been suffering from heart complications since March. Friday and Saturday he was at the Mayo Clinic for his heart, he was admitted…
In many states once you get outside of the city areas the highways have poetic names like “Highway M” or, “Highway Z” or, “Highway PP.” Every time Kathleen and I drive through Wisconsin we pass a sign that reads, “Hwy V” I have yet to be on top of my passenger duties enough to snap…
Having cancer, for me, means that I’m FRIGGIN’ STARVING almost all the time, but very few things sound good, and fewer things taste edible. Once I light on something that I can actually EAT, I spend days hoping that my tastes won’t change again. What I love on Monday can sometimes taste like doggy-do on Tuesday, and there’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s not about spice, or temperature of food, or sugar content, or really anything.
One constant has been tea. I love a good cup of tea, and for better or for worse THAT is a delicious thing to cling to. I’m also good with bananas and peanut butter is generally a positive. There were a few days when the smell of it made me nauseas, but since then I’ve returned to the land of Smucker’s peanut butter, and in small amounts it’s good food.
I keep racking my brain for ANY food that is remotely appealing, but everything I try (even stuff that “sounds good”) ends up being a vehicle for nausea. Even my old stand by, ice cream. Oy.
So, I’m still here. A little shaky, a little pale, and apparently I’m right in the “eye” of the chemo, but I’ll get through it. Thank you for being here with me.
I’m too tired to blog, to weak to think straight, but I’m home. I’m exhausted, covered in adhesive from various body monitors, IV’s & ports. Every breath I take, even when I’m just sitting, feels ragged and shaky. I’m weak as a kitten, but nowhere near as adorable. I’m home, I’m up at 5, sitting…
After 5 days in the hospital, I’ll be getting sprung today! A visit somewhere away from home is always hard for me, even a vacation. I’m a Virgo, I love my home SO MUCH that when I’m forced to be away I feel oddly dislocated, not connected to my strength. My strength IS my home,…
I get sprung from here on Sunday. Today is my last chemo of this session, then depending on my labs I’ll be home for two or perhaps three weeks, getting my lab numbers back up (platelets, etc.) and perhaps a transfusion.
I am SO looking forward to being home, which I miss so much.
My goals are to stay put. To get through this thing in one place, mentally and physically. TO just BE HERE, to be present, and to GET THROUGH IT. I would give anything to run away, but that’s not possible, you cannot outrun cancer.
Part of staying put will be trying to keep my good numbers up; good platelet counts, good hemoglobin, just GOOD numbers. And to keep the bad numbers down; heart rate below 100.
I can be relaxed about this so far because it’s only day one. We’ll see how happy I am on day 7, when the side effects begin to come into their own. For now, I’ll enjoy what I can enjoy, not that getting liters and liters of fluids pumped into me all day is terribly ENJOYABLE, but it’s not horrible.