Post 138: Visitors lift a dull day.
I’m reminded I’ve been off work for too long because I’ve run out of Netflix and BBCi programs to watch — isn’t that a worry.
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With the enjoyment I found in yesterday’s trip to the beach, left me feeling lower than expected today.
My mind was full of thoughts about the meeting on Thursday — the one I need answers from, to inform me of lifestyle choices that seemed to have slipped from my grasp lately.
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The newest tangerines my Darling brought home yesterday are sweet, and have easy to peel shiny skins, and ideal for a pre-breakfast snack. I normally wait until she’s down before I have a bigger breakfast, so one of my five-a-day is a good start.
My Darling was still sleeping upstairs, which is great and just what the pills should be doing. Amitriptyline is the key to reducing her headaches and increasing her rest — and it’s working just fine. With all that’s happening, it’s a relief for me to know that my Darling is able to recharge and repair overnight.
My own sleep is now so disturbed due to rib and back pain that when I wake up in the dark, I prefer to head downstairs to the comfy rocker rather than go through the ritual of finding a painless position to lie in. If the pain’s too much I can swig back a good helping of oral morphine to make it more bearable. That’s my life right now.
But when it comes down to it, none of the pills or potions I have can calm the pace of my spinning head, full of anxiety over what’s happening to my worst friend — the cancer in my bones.
At last I could hear my Darling’s soft footfall on the other side of the lounge ceiling, above my weary head.
When her smiling face arrived downstairs I got out of the rocker for a lovely hug and asked her how she was. She was more interested in feeding me a healthy breakfast, and we both headed into the kitchen.
I enjoyed the lovingly cooked scrambled eggs, to which I added a good dollop of Mr Vikki’s hot chilli sauce to brighten up the taste. My tastebuds have been a bit shy lately — I guess that’s the morphine effect — but I love any hot sauces, so I’m not moaning.
My Darling suggested I come to town with her: a haircut and another prescription for me, and a bit of shopping for her — three birds with one stone. I jumped at the chance.
When all’s said and done, it’s not just women who get a boost from a haircut, us blokes do too. I had overlong hair from failing to arrange the regular trim, so a tidy-up would be great.
I sat in the barber’s chair without a word, closed my eyes and drifted off into a coma-like relaxed silence. I loved it. The lady barber somehow knew that chat was not necessary, and we both enjoyed the time we had, in silence. When finished, I looked up at the mirror in front of me I had turned back into the guy I remembered I should be, not the shambles I looked when I sat down only a few minutes past.
The “therapy session” was over too quickly, but the benefit will be longer lasting. I walked away a happy bunny — happier than I’d been all day.
I had a text from my brother by the time we parked up at home, suggesting he and big Sis could visit tonight.
We jumped at the chance and replied, yes, you can.
Mr Vicious followed us in the front door and he and I were greeted with the smell drifting from the slow cooker. The lentil shepherd’s pie sauce smelt amazing, and the promise of the sweet potato mash topping for tonight’s dinner was another big positive, lifting my spirits further. But first I had a date with the shower and a bed snooze so I could be in good shape for my visitors.
While I did get comfortable and catch a few zzz’s, my mind went back to the meeting and the questions I must ask. But which ones?
Can I have Carboplatin again?
Is it worth having the 5th and 6th session if the chemo isn’t working very well?
Why is my PSA still over 475?
What is causing the very high PSA?
Will I get a break after the chemo ends?
Why am I getting the chest pains, and why are they getting worse by the day?
And on, and on, and on.
My Darling brought upstairs the wonderful shepherd’s pie, which was everything I hoped for — another positive.
But just as my little Bro and big Sis arrived at the door I realised that my heart was twitching again. Oh bloody no — not AFib again!
Big Sis brought some narcissi bulbs for spring flowers and a mug with my old green Bantam printed on it as gifts. Little Bro brought his humour and his brotherly love.
I could only moan and groan about how I’m struggling with everything lately, and even though I had a good day I collapsed into a misery too quickly and easily — I’m ashamed to say.
I tried to be upbeat and inclusive, but failed. I hugged them both tightly when (Sis and Bro) they left, but I felt hollow.
I really don’t want to be a jerk, but it seems that’s what I’m best at lately.
I want to stop the bus and check the direction it’s taking me.
The chest pain is becoming all-consuming, and I don’t yet know who to run to for the best reaction and solution to what’s happening.
I guess the chemo side effects will be blamed for this situation I’m in.
I’ll be glad to finish the chemo so that this all-encompassing excuse can’t be used any more. I feel that the chemo is getting a raw deal, and the cancer is hiding behind it.
Yes I’m contradicting myself. I don’t know what’s going on. Who can give me answers?
I need some more morphine and a sleep.
Goodnight.
PS
The AFib lasted 13 hours - adding to the tiredness, pain and frustration.
When will I get a bloody break?
