There have been a series of reasons why I haven't written in a while. At first it was because there wasn't anything special going on; then my Big Sister Joyce came to visit for 4 days; then for the last few days I've been sick. Being in cancer treatment has about a gazillion negative things about it, one of them being that if you don't feel well there's never an easy reason. Is it in reaction to the chemo? Did I pick up a bug? Was it something I ate? In the end it really doesn't matter -- I felt terrible and couldn't eat anything and could only be vertical for about 4 minutes at a time, then I had to be back in bed. That started on Friday and this afternoon I'm not feeling a whole lot of improvement, but I seem to be able to be upright for up to half an hour. I couldn't even sit outside for our fabulous weather we've been having,even today when it's 85. Other than my fleeting moments of verticality, I'm only comfortable lying in a fetal position.
The days with Joyce were wonderful. She brought two full photo albums of ancestors, our shared childhood and into young adulthood. We had hours of conversation and stories beginning with, "Do you remember when . . . ?"
I'm now at 5 weeks since beginning chemo, and still have not lost my hair. A week ago the doctor told me that 1 out of 10 never lose their hair. I never knew that. I thought hair loss was inevitable. And dang it all, I was all ready to be decked out in CUTE hats. And did you know there are hundreds of different ways to tie head scarves? Just go to YouTube and search for "tying chemo scarves" and you'll see what kinds of things I've been patiently practicing for weeks. Shoot. I could have used all that time making smaller clothes.
Yes, I'm still losing weight, and these last few days of whatever was going on with me made it even worse. When I first was diagnosed with cancer, everyone told me not to be shy about asking for what I need, and I assured everyone that I was perfectly comfortable asking for help and they needn't worry, if I needed something, I'd ask.
Another piece of self-image shattered. Darn it anyway, don't you hate when that happens? It turns out I'm not so good at asking. I'm fine with a specific thing, like a ride to and from one kind of medical procedure or another. Or invite myself along when someone says she's going to Costco. But as my stamina shrinks and my fatigue grows, day-to-day living is becoming more problematic. Changing the sheets on the bed. Cooking. Ah, cooking is especially a problem because I'm not very hungry, so it's hard to work up the umph to cook. Besides which, right now grocery shopping seems overwhelming.
I know as I write this that I have to take into account that something unusual has been going on the last few days, and I'm just plain sick. While emotionally it feels like it's the beginning of a long slide down, my head tells me that I'll snap out of this soon and feel at least a little better.
I sure hope so, or I'll have to make some radical improvement in my ability to articulate exactly what I need and when I need it.
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