Posts Tagged ‘Illness’
I have to have another scan.
I have to drink that nasty shit (MoviPrep) again. This time I had better keep it down because it was due to a “poor prep” that I need this second scan. That and there is “more the doctor wants to remove” before giving me my results.
I got my stitches yanked, though. I can wear non-elastic pants again! Woo!
This afternoon, I will be going to see the surgeon who yanked my kidney and did the stomach scans on me. My biopsy results should be in.
This whole thing scares me to the core. Think happy thoughts for me! Pray that whatever they got out of my stomach and colon wasn’t metastasized from somewhere else!
I also have a sore throat today. I’ve been swallowing the mild pain medications all day today. Nothing seems to help.
My brother is writing nasty stuff about me on his website again.
He’s angry about our older brother, Charlie, who is going to be declared deceased this year. It’s been seven years since Charlie went to Afghanistan in 2004, and we never heard from him since. There was never a body found that identified as his, but Charlie had never gone to the dentist (like me) at the time that he would have disappeared. I was the only one of mum’s kids to sign the form that I believed Charlie was deceased. Charlie loved the family. If he were alive, he would be in touch with us by now. He would have found a way.
For now, I’m going to appreciate the hits and just sit back and try to relax. I had treatment yesterday. The day before, I sat in tears over Sandee. Her death has affected me far more than I thought it would. It puts a new perspective on my own mortality. I always knew that I wasn’t going to live forever, and I know that I could die tomorrow, but cancer boosts those statistics up pretty higher than before. Sure, I could get hit by a bus or armageddon could happen, but those are possibilities. Cancer is almost certainly a death sentence for a crime you didn’t commit. Last month, I had tests to see if my cancer was spreading. If there was something new. I haven’t heard back from anyone, and that worries me. I know I will get answers when I go to my appointments, but I don’t like waiting that long. My worry? What if I do die tomorrow? Who will care for my family? Will my death be just one big expense for Dennis to take on? Who will watch cartoons with Chloe late at night? Who will play soft toys with the boys? Who will care for the dogs? These are all things that I do for them, that no one else seems to be able to do.
Maybe I’m just over reacting again.
I indulged a little today. Who’s it hurting anyway? I called Doc Dan and asked if I could bring Chloe in for a pee-drug test. He gave me some lame, “Not today” type of excuse. Fine. I really don’t care anymore. I’ve done the best I can to keep her out of my percocets and I still think she is getting them. Probably not because she’s able to unlock my little wooden chest or pick the lock on it, but because her father is giving them to her in several doses throughout the day to make her sleep through the night. Brilliant man. See, this is the shit that I’m talking about. One minute Dennis is a loving father, a kind, excellent husband, then he goes and takes away my pain medication and gives it to our five year old because she won’t sleep at night. The kid has never slept at night or through the night. She is nocturnal. She wakes up around midnight and wants breakfast and baths and everything. She falls asleep around 5pm the next day. Her sleep schedule is based on her father’s band’s tour schedule around the time she was born. The reason? For the first month or so of her life, he cared for her. While he was on the road. Chloe slept in the back rooms, or was left in the back rooms to sleep, while the band had their shows. I was stranded in the hospital with severe infections and hemmorahages.
Enough of that.
I’m sure my harasser(s) have more than enough information on me, now, to turn me in to child services. I mean, that’s what they do, right? They could never use the disposable income they so proudly brag about to fly out here and face me, so they do things to me behind my back.
Chloe also lost her necklace she got for Christmas. It’s somewhere out in the backyard. I don’t have the energy to go looking for it right now, though it was pretty expensive. Over $100 with taxes and things. I could send her loving father out to get it, but I doubt he even remembers what it looks like.
I have treatment this Saturday. Maybe then I can find out why I am feeling so damned bad. G’Night Everyone!
It’s a dark day. I feel pain all over. My head is pounding. My pulse is racing. I want to reach over and jerk the wires and tubes off the monitor. It gets to be so aggravating. I’m trapped. I know what it must feel like to be a caged animal. I wonder if this is truly Hell. No escape from your own misery.
What can I compare this too? I don’t even know. I closed my eyes and willed my thoughts to let the spirit of my soul rise up. My body was screaming, “Please!” My mind was whispering and begging, “Please.” I could almost hear the dark side laughing, “Give up.” Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. I could feel them travel slowly down my face.
I won’t be angry, pain and darkness thrive on anger.
I have to be bigger than the pain. Bigger than the darkness. I have to snatch my thoughts back and fight to keep them from being overpowered. Sometimes it’s the hardest thing in the world to accomplish. I sink into this deep abyss where I have to face my fears one by one. No one can take this journey but me. No one can overcome the fears but me. I have to face the weakness and shut it down. Rationalize it. Dissect it. Abolish it. Find peace with it.
I know my thoughts are all screwed up. I don’t know why it has to be like this. Pain brings on the weirdest thoughts. I’m trying to deal with them as they come. What jumps into my mind…
I don’t want to die alone. I’m not sure it’s fair to even think those type of thoughts. But I have to deal with it for my own well being. There comes a point in all of this reality and insanity that you have too. It’s true, I’m not afraid of death. I’ve come to terms with all of that. But, when the times comes I don’t want to be alone, and yet, is it fair to put someone you love through the tremendous sorrow of being with you when you depart?
I don’t know the answer. I guess it’s not something we can choose. Maybe I’m not so much afraid of being alone as I am about being able to say my final I love you’s. I guess that’s why it’s so important to express those things when you feel them right now. I try to do that. I don’t want to forget. I want my actions to leave no doubts of my love.
To Love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.
I feel queasy today. At first I thought it was because I’m not eating right, but eating just made things worse. Now I’ve thrown up. What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, right. Cancer.
It’s going to kick in and make me miserable, no matter what, I suppose.
I made some more peppermint candies last night. There’s a nice, pepperminty scent floating around the house. I gave up on the gingerbread. It just wasn’t coming out very well.
I want to go to the Winter Lights Festival tomorrow night, if I can keep this sickness under control for the rest of the day. There have been ads about it on TV, and the kids are bouncing out of their seats, wanting to go. I don’t know if I can walk through the lights this year. I’ve been trying to control my pain with the weak lortabs that my virtually useless doctor prescribed me on Friday, but it’s just not taking away the pain. All that I am getting is nausea and vomiting. Something I really don’t like. I have to be re-scanned, and that’s just something I’m not looking forward to.
It’s kind of sad, but I just wish that I could be well. That’s all I really want for Christmas this year. I know Dennis is rushing around, getting things for me, and taking the kids shopping for presents for me, but I really just wish that I could get well, and know that I was going to live long and into my prime. Cancer takes that away from a person. These painful tests that I go through take that away from a person. It’s as if I am trapped, and no matter were I go, I will be stuck with this. I know that one can’t run away from their body, but I wish I could. If I could trade with any number of healthy people who “just don’t want to live anymore” I would. Let them have a sickness that is slowly draining their life away. I want to live. I want to play. I want to have a little more fun before I die.
My writing is a bunch of scribbles. My hand is shaking. I will my muscles to respond to the commands of my brain. And all these thoughts are running around my brain. I want to put them into some kind of order but it’s so hard to do when my body doesn’t want to respond like it should. Finally I give up. I have to release what I’m thinking somehow.
Feel like crap, or shit, or hell. Pick a word. Think awful.
I don’t know this body anymore. It’s a shell holding the real me somewhere within. I want to just cry. I don’t know why. I guess I could justify the tears if I’d let them go. If asked I could give a list of reasons.
I’ve been really sick for several hours. I just want to escape from all of this for awhile. For an hour, for a day. It would feel so awesome. Just one single day. 24 hours. Is it to much to ask? And if I had 24 hours of total freedom from all of this what would I do with it? I’d do what I always did… just enjoy it.
I have to concentrate really hard to get past the blackness that is surrounding me. I start running to get away from it. I want out. I hear the sound of my breathing and as I run faster, I hear my heart pumping faster and faster. I run and I run and I run.
Suddenly I burst into the sunshine. I tilt my head back and feel the warmeth on my face. I can’t stop the tears. I let them go into the land of freedom. They can’t hurt me. The prisoner has been set free. I see all these colors everywhere I turn. A meadow beneath my bare feet, a living carpet. The sky is filled with endless crisp blue. The breeze dries my tears. The song of birds and crickets, sing to me. I feel the peace. I’m a part of it.
I’m tired and weary. I want to live in this place I envision forever. I want all the pain to go away. Not just mine, everyone’s. I want us all to live here and be happy. To feel the smiles, and hear the laughter. No more darkness. I’m just a dreamer, aren’t I?
Sometimes it’s all I have.
I tried calling some friends earlier. Either you all have caller ID and just chose to put your phones on “ignore” when you saw it was me, or you’re really busy. Either way, I was saddened by this. But I shall live.
Husband is due home in a few hours. This should prove to be interesting since his dirty laundry is still at the foot of the bed where he left it weeks ago.
Some random stranger commented on one of my images of myself on Flickr – apparently I look “hot” in my gown and hospital mirror, recovering from surgery, staggering to the bathroom to pee Friday evening. Always nice to know that when I have black circles under my eyes, my hair is standing up straight, I have wires and tubes trailing out of my gown that is slipping off my shoulders, my eyes are closed, my face is pale, and I’m grinning like a goon, that I’m still somewhat attractive to someone else.
Scary thought – the same person commented on another picture, this one of my mom holding me when I was about five. They said I was a MILF. Hmm. I don’t know if that’s a compliment to me or my mom. Personally, I didn’t think we looked that much alike.
I’m going back to sleep. I dunno what the point of this update was. Possibly loneliness mixed with nightmares of the scope piercing through my stomach and nighttime vomiting. Fear. It keeps me awake. Someone hold me.