I've been under The Grip. The Grip of Chemo. I'm doing better today, but since Sunday, I've not been feeling up to writing. It started Sunday morning, early, with an hour long visit to the loo. I won't go into detail, suffice to say, It was U-G-L-Y!
I went through the day trying this and that to stop the pain, the motion, The Grip. I was so tired about being pent up that I convinced myself I could go to the store to get dinner. Pot Pie was on my mind, and the idea of Gatorade, Apple Juice, the usual stomach ailment foods....I did pretty well on the way to the store, and within moments of walking in, THE GRIP. Stuck in the frozen foods section. Bent over the shopping cart unable to move left right or center. My mom saying something like, "Go home, Ian and I will take care of this." Sure! No problem, as soon as I can move again, if I move again. Ian pulling on me, horrified, no doubt. Deep deep breathing and still THE GRIP had me in its mighty jaws. I felt like everyone was staring at me, though I'm certain not a soul noticed. It's common to see someone hung over their cart white with pain. I feared moving because I was terrified that if I moved so would "something else". Determined to get through the shopping event, I tried to act as if nothing was wrong. Desperately searching for the GD Pot Pies. Right there in front of my face, and yet, I simply could not see them. Blind with pain, I continued up the juice aisle for my "list" of stomach bug food and drink. Next the soda aisle, then the rice aisle, and then the pain began to lift, the vice off my bowels, and weak and dazed, I finished in the dairy aisle wiping any and all yogurts off the shelves. Not sure if that would help, but again, desperate. We made it home, and I straight to bed. I don't even remember eating that night.
I woke the next morning, Monday. I felt weak, but much better. I was going to go to P/T without my mom, but I was afraid of a repeat on my own, so mom and I headed to P/T for my shoulder and scars and had a really good session with Lauren. We had time to stop for a salt bagel with butter, and something that a friend recommended to me so I tried it. Fermented Green Tea, Kombucha ~ multi-green. Okay. This stuff is NASTY! It's like drinking Brewer's Yeast straight up. But I have to admit that the stuff made me feel better. So I said, "It's medicine." and did my best to drink it slowly. After P/T I went home, took a nap, Ed came home, and I had three coaching clients. The first gave me energy, and the second was on an adrenaline high, the third,...halfway through the energy began to ebb and ebb quickly. But the kids did great, and worked hard, and thank goodness, I didn't need all the energy, they did. So I was done for the night. I don't remember eating that night either, too tired to care.
The night was one of those heavy sleeps. Full of bizarre dreams I can't remember, and then 5:45AM. NOT AGAIN!!!! THE GRIP!!! back madder and meaner than ever before. Breath was hard to take in or let out. Too weak to scream, so in silence I suffered while three slept soundly, snoring away. Only the cats with their intuitions up concerned about my well-being. They would curl around my ankles as I sat there tortured. The gas pain so huge, I thought I'd rip open at one point and thought I'd be grateful if I did, at least it'd be over. Soon alarms started going off, and the cats had done their job by getting me to relax a bit. They wanted a reward, breakfast, but they would have to wait for someone else as I limped my way back to the bed. I slammed an Immodium multi symptom and Ed woke not even feeling me leave, only return. Soon the house was buzzing with normalcy, while I moaned in post Grip agony. Ian left for school, Ed offered tea ~ flatly refused. Mom came in with an offer of something...refused. Ed offered an English muffin. Accepted, but quickly refused as round two of THE GRIP grabbed me up in its jaws. I crawled back to bed and thought, "I can't go to the Doctor's today, I don't have the strength." But 10AM rolled around and I somehow pulled myself together to get dressed, and headed up with mom to Dr. Speyer's office.
The meeting was brief, but good. My white cell count is 10,000. Very good numbers. Which means I'll be able to make it through this chemo without "incident". Of course that doesn't mean THE GRIP. Just the count. So I asked, "Why was I okay for the most part until Sunday?" Easy answer. The Steroids. Once the steriods wore off, then the real fun started. So it was Roid Rage early in the week. It made me feel great, the reason I could go chant that same night. Why do men do this to themselves? The low is SO LOW! But now I know what to expect. So I went home and stayed in bed the rest of the day.
Today, the baby grip got me, so I'm hopeful it's on its way out of here for now, until next time. I saw a genetic councilor today, and it's pretty much determined that I don't have much risk of this being genetic, and my insurance company won't pay for testing to be sure because I fall into the cracks. I might be able to get tested if I'd agree to lop off both breasts if the test comes back positive, but really, that's making a deal with the Devil. So I'll roll the dice and trust that there is NO history of breast cancer in my family. I am ground zero.
So I'm feeling better today, but still wiped out from my toe to toe with THE GRIP. My mouth is as dry as a bone...my head aches from lack of hydration...my stomach green with queasiness still...but I'm here!!!! I'm Still Here!!!! Look Who's Here!!!!!! God I love Julie Wilson.
Nite!
Love and Light!
Melissa
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment