Still recovering from the surgery and still have the drains in. These things are miserable. For some reason I keep putting out too much drainage to pull them yet and so deal with it. I have to say, sometimes out of the blue I break down and have a brief cry. Weepy these days. Then I get myself pulled back together and keep going. Spring is here
and the flowers are blooming–even the Lilacs are starting to show their blooms. I really have nothing to cry about. Life is good, things are going along as planned (mostly). But I’m not sleeping as my mind pulls the “oh-you’re-wanting-to-sleep-lets-consider-the-world-problems-and-remember-all-the-stupid-things-you-ever-did-in-your-life” routine and I am so uncomfortable when I try to sleep that it really is hopeless. My primary care physician refuses to give me sleeping medication or anti-anxiety medication, so I have a plan for that–I see the oncologist on Wednesday. She gave me anti-anxiety meds last appointment before surgery so maybe she will give me sleeping medication. I don’t know. Maybe they think I’ll overdose myself or become dependent or some bull shit….So been drinking alcohol at times to shut my brain down (unsuccessfully) and generally cope as well as some herbal meds. I’ve been hit twice now by oncology therapist and primary care doctor’s nurse for the whole suicide questions list nurses generally screen patients with. For me, that seems laughable. I’m a nurse and don’t you know that shouldn’t apply to me. 🙂
Been thinking a lot about this whole chemo thing. It seems crazy to let them pump drugs into me to kill the cancer and at the same time the side effects could and probably will make me sick, sick, sick. The plan is to infuse perjeta, Herceptin, taxotere, and carboplatin into my port a cath in my right chest every three weeks. Week one I’m supposed to be very sick (nausea, vomiting, explosive diarrhea, aches, pains). Week two I’m supposed to be very fatigued/exhausted and immune compromised as I start to recover from week one. Week three I’m supposed to feel somewhat “normal.” Maybe even work a shift or two. And then start it all over again. My granddaughter who is 7 years old is struggling to understand it all and worried I am going to die. Here come the tears again. Shit.
I could die. Chemo complications happen. I think I’m set for that possibility. I believe in an after life. I believe that when we die, our spirit or soul moves on to the next level of existence, reborn into another state and time. I believe we learn something in each life and enjoy the beauty of life and love. We are after all made up of the stuff of stars and universe. I do not really believe in hell or damnation other than what we have earned in the lives we lead. Karma. And I do not believe in heaven/eternal life for all the “chosen, good people.” I’m a skeptic. I believe there is a higher power guiding and nudging us and ordering the universe and evolution and all that. If my beliefs offend some, I believe we each have to find our own way and develop our own belief systems. You have yours. I have mine. No proselytizing.
I would hate to see my life end. I love my life. Have I been through some rotten things in my life. Yes. Sometime I’ll tell you about some of it. All in all, I love my life, my family, my job, my life. So, I’ve already made up my mind I’m going to live and that means chemo for me. But still, I cry.
Pieces of Joy 