Nov. 16.

Day of Rest

My Status: Rested
Mood: Good

Sleep has been accomplished. And not only the drugged variety, which was interrupted by several trips during the night to excrete the extra fluids I’ve been carrying around, but this afternoon I had a honest-to-goodness, natural sleep, nap. Too much information? As I mentioned in my first post: My aim is to share my experiences with you, good, bad, horrid, and laughable.

Why would I share so much? For a few reasons:

  • Because it helps me to get it out. And this is the number one reason.
  • This is a journey and while it may be primarily MY journey, I am not on it alone.
  • Cancer used to be a word which was whispered from one person to the next, something to fear. It is far too common and affects too many people for us to continue whispering the word, but we still treat the symptoms, treatments, and journey with the same fear. Maybe by talking about all the issues we can move to a realm where we can freely discuss what is happening without that sense of awe and fear.
    • And this cycles back up to the first and second points for me. If I don’t feel free to discuss the gritty details, then I am isolated in my journey. I feel cut off from my support network, and brings everyone else along on a false journey.
  • As my dad used to say, “Life isn’t all peaches and cream.
  • By talking about that which causes fear, lessens the fear and gives us back a measure of control (however illusive)
  • And because I’m not much one for orthodox conventions. Sue me.

A common misconception is that the patient is travelling down the road toward health on their own. This couldn’t be further from the truth. This diagnosis, this journey, impacts not only me, but anyone who cares about me. We all bring our own backgrounds to the particular issue—in this case, Leukemia/Lymphoma + bad guy abnormalities = chemotherapy. While I am the one who is getting bruised, and has had the drips going into me, I am not the only one dealing with the diagnosis. Denny, although he will not admit it to me, is struggling with the diagnosis, and the reality of what I’m going through. Things have not been bad so far, which is fantastic, but he’s worried about what might lie ahead.

Everyone wants to do something to help. It is a natural, communal instinct. When you hear someone has trouble, you want to reach out and help those in need. The problem is that right now, there’s not a whole lot anyone can do for me. Except be there; sending prayers, good thoughts, good vibes, jokes, commiseration, reading these posts, commenting, etc. (Please don’t stop.)

Right now the posts have been primarily focused on those gritty details, but I’m sure I’ll break into other types of posts along the way … I’m a writer, and what affects me affects my characters, so I’m sure there will be a post or two about that in the not too distant future. I haven’t accomplished a lot of writing this week, but I’m okay with that as well. I know when I need it to be my focus, it will be there for me, taking me away from some of the reality.

Triumph of the day: Due to the aforementioned interruptions to sleep last night, I have lost 6 lbs of the water weight which had piled on due to the steroids. YAY!!! for accomplishments. I am still carrying excess water (which is immediately evident when I remove my compression glove—the line hangs around for a few hours), but that the water is making an effort to leave cheers me up. I thought I might be headed into nauseous country this morning, but thanks to my friend Mindy, I took her advice and took the nausea medication BEFORE there was an issue, and ultimately have remained nausea free for the remainder of the day. BOO-YA for the little things. I did have the after-white-cell-boosting fever, but it has now dissipated along with the headache it brought along for the ride. Fortunately, it didn’t exceed the mark where I needed to call anyone about it, so rest, fluids, and eating slowly has prevailed to make this day a good one. My head is still not up to writing, but that’s okay… there is always tomorrow, and with what I hope is another good night sleep, the words will start to flow.

The picture at the top of this post symbolizes how I feel about finally getting sleep. Rainbows have always been very special to me … because they’re rainbows and all colorful and sparkly. An awesome refraction of light. They are the promise of good things ahead.

By LK Griffie | Posted in Good Day | Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

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  • Yay for naps – and for the water slowly flushing out and cutting the nausea off at the pass!!! *hugs*

    Don’t worry about the TMI – serious illness can be a funny, embarrassing and weird thing. In my early 20s I faced my own life threatening illness and after over a year of doctors, hospitals, specialists and treatments I was willing to discuss practically any aspect of what was going on with almost anyone. It is what it is and pretending it’s not doesn’t make the uncomfortable parts go away but if you can talk about them, laugh about them…then they lose some of their power to hold you in fear.

    • Exactly, my friend. We all need the ability to take that step backward and laugh at ourselves from time to time. Because let’s face it, that which makes us uncomfortable is a big part of the 12-year-old boy lexicon of humor (may I never forget it). And laughter is fear’s kryptonite—may it always be so.

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