Archive for September, 2010
I am going to the celebrations tonight. I need the break. I feel pretty badly, and I don’t want to focus on why that is.
I feel that my morale has gone down. I’ve tried several methods to make myself feel better, but I just can’t feel better, no matter what I do. I even tried making a caffeine exlir to make my pain go away, but nothing. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Not that that may help me. My physician is no good. I wish I could have gotten insurance so I could kick him to the curb.
I took a nap today, but that didn’t take away the tiredness that I feel.
It’s only the first week of treatment, but already I feel as though I will never be back to normal. I haven’t gotten as sick as I know I can, so I am thankful for that. And now it’s time for Harvest Moon. Happy Fall everyone! 
Smile! Life is a beautiful thing!
Cheer Up Sleepy Queen
Ok, those aren’t the lyrics, but it will have to do.
I’m sleepy because I had to take pain medicine this morning. The pain woke me up. Stretching just made the blood rush to my head and made me dizzy. But I still go up, got dressed, and went to work. It’s cloudy today, so I don’t know if Harvest Moon will be a bust or not. I want to see the moon! It’s supposed to bring good luck and health throughout the Harvest and Hibernation seasons.
Judson left me a mess at work. He fell asleep at the counter, and spilled several vials of mercury. He’s not even supposed to be using mercury. I had to wake him up when I got in, then clean up his mess and try to get what little bit of work he had started done. The detectives weren’t too happy with having to wait fifteen hours for a DNA run to get started. I didn’t fire him. Least I need a ride to treatments next month. Even doped up on Vicodin, I am still doing a better job than he did.
Not too many people question me about the door. I don’t volunteer anything. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow, and I’m not sure if I want to keep it. Doc Mick will push those papers on me. He’s even said he’d examine me and sign a statement that my injuries were intentionally inflicted, but I don’t want to rock the boat. A wave-less, calm journey is best, but impossible. I know eventually there will be waves or the boat will be rocked, I just don’t want to be the one to cause either of them.
Back to work. I’m keeping Harvest Moon in my sights.
So Far
I didn’t eat today. It wasn’t intentional, it just happened. I got through the entire day, setting up things for my mom, buying her things because she intimidates me like that, and throwing away the ill-fitting, faded, worn out sheets that I have slept on nearly half my life, without eating anything solid. I drank several bottles of water, though. Making the bed shouldn’t have me reaching for my inhaler. It’s just too hard to keep those old sheets on the mattress, and it had nothing to do with the type of mattress we have, either. I’m sure they wouldn’t stay on if we had a regular box spring mattress. It’s always liberating to get rid of some of this clutter. Life shouldn’t be hard when it doesn’t have to, and making the bed shouldn’t be hard for anyone, even if that person sleeps on top of a few hundred gallons of thickened water.
I was able to go back to work yesterday. I will be going tomorrow. It seems as though my boss is the only one who is clued in on me being sick. I was denied insurance because of my cancer status. I wanted to quit after that, but I need my check to pay for my treatments. Dennis assured me that his going on the road in a few weeks has nothing to do with my health status or the financial aspects of it, and he really wants to just promote his new album. Sure. I believe that. I think it’s more that he doesn’t want to watch what is going to become of me. While I still have my hair and nails (yes, my fingernails tend to fall out during chemotherapy), it’s only the first treatment, and I will soon be hairless and full of holes, which I think he doesn’t want to see. The last time he was on the road, our nephew had just gotten the “3-6 months to live” prognosis. Our daughter had gotten the “we can’t do anything for you” prognosis. I truly believe he didn’t want to watch his family members get sick, degenerate and die. It’s not a pleasant thing, but after everything is all said and done, I know I couldn’t live with myself if I had just turned away from them when they were at their sickest.
For some reason, my co-workers did not call me today. I don’t understand why. Any other day, they would be calling every few minutes. How does this work? What is this chemical? Can you tell me where [this or that] is? Today my phone was silent. I embraced the quietness. Even if it was just for a few seconds.
Tomorrow night is Harvest Moon or the first full moon of the fall season. It’s a time of gathering, and a time of sharing the harvest with others. I am going this year. I just learned of it tonight, but I want to go anyway. It has been an important part of my life for the past ten years, and I want to continue to keep it that way. The moon is always so brilliant at the gathering, even its reflection off the lake is brilliant. I won’t be able to take photos, because cameras are not permitted, but I will fully update on what goes on when I get home.
Cleaning Is Liberating
Along with the stiffness and soreness came a new sensation today: Hunger. I actually felt hungry this morning when I woke up. That sensation quickly disappeared when the reality of my life sank in. Cancer. Treatments. Work tomorrow. A doctor who practically handed me the paper work to file a police report that I couldn’t’ bring myself to file. A couple of pain pills and some Vitamin Water later, the sensation to eat is gone. My sleep last night wasn’t interrupted with pain, a surprise.
My husband washed all of the laundry last night. I have no place to put it all. But to even things out, I’m tossing out all the worn out, thin, ragged, ill-fitting sheets that are just cluttering the place up. It’s going to be liberating to tear those ratty sheets off the bed and stuff them in the trash.
I have a small fracture to my nose and cheekbone. Walked into that door again, you know. I’m starting to wonder if I should have the door removed from my life. It keeps severely injuring my face. Doc Mick is wise to the door. He’s also wise to my pills mysteriously disappearing several days after I get a new prescription. They keep getting flushed for some reason.
Ok, I know exactly what is going on and why. The above paragraph is coded. The door is a metaphor. But you knew that already, didn’t you?
Onto other things.
I do strange things at 2am when I’m in pain:
Yes, I drank that. No, I didn’t die. 
I’m starting to feel sick now. I’m calling it an early night. Thank you for the well wishes and warm thoughts.
Today my husband stopped going to the studio. The day after his out-patient surgery, he will be going overseas for the promotion of his new CD. He won’t be home until November 8th. I will be alone at the premier. I will be alone on our anniversary. I will be alone when our boys turn three. In a crowd, yet all alone. I always feel alone when Dennis is not with me. He says he is no longer going to work on the finished project because he wants to spend the time with me, while we still can.
I have yet to get sick. Or even pop open my Sims 2 game because I’m still burning DVDs for others. I want to get a good friend’s birthday package sent out before Dennis leaves for his trip, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it.
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