Tag Archives: exhaustion

Feb. 23.

Infusion Day

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Musings |
Comments (0)

Now that I’m a hair less exhausted and might be able to construct a legible sentence or two, I thought I’d share how my infusion day went. Because of the length of time the treatment takes, I have to be to the doctor’s office by 8:30 AM which means leaving the house around 7:30 … just in case I run into traffic. I had prepared better for the day, since I knew it would be closer to 8 hours than 5-6, I brought some things to nibble on as well as things to drink. The chemo nurse who had been there the last time wasn’t there, but the nurse who usually takes care of me was running the chemo room, so all was good. She got me all hooked up and tested the port, but then nothing was going in. It took a bit of finessing, but she got it going and then came the first question of the day.

As I am allergic to Benadryl, they give me a steroid instead to help minimize the allergic reactions … and I do need it. The problem was that the preceding treatment, the chemo nurse charted that she had given me 10mg and I know my doctor had given instructions for 4mg. I recalled the conversation verbatim, and the doctor agreed that is what she had said, but we didn’t know whether the chart had been incorrectly marked or whether I had been given the 10mg vs. the ordered 4mg. (The chemo nurse is no longer with my oncologist, and it’s probably a good thing if she cannot follow what the doctor orders.) So we decided to proceed with the 4mg. That settled, I pulled out my laptop, settled back in the chair, and started working on some things.

I always bring stuff to work on while I’m there because I don’t sleep easily or well in that type of environment and can’t sit there and stare at the walls doing nothing. So I have my laptop and can work on whatever I have the brain power for (which this time around wasn’t much). I also can hop on the internet and do some surfing or watch a movie, as I usually bring one along. The morning went by quickly and then it happened. I made the BIG mistake of invoking Murphy’s law by making the following statement: “Wow, it’s going fast today.” I said it after the second bottle had completed, so should have been half way done and I had hopes of being done early. Murhpy just gave a huge evil belly laugh and said, “Not so fast.”

With the third bottle hooked in, I figured it would be a good time to watch the movie I had brought with me because I really was too tired to do much else. So I popped in Spy and began watching. I had seen Spy before and thought it would be a nice, light-hearted watch. I enjoy Melissa McCarthy and though the film itself is on the spoof/ridiculous side figured it might not be quite as funny the second time round, but still something to take me away. Boy, was I wrong. I had forgotten to factor in my state of exhaustion, so it was like watching the movie after a few too many drinks. It was hysterical. I nearly snort-sprayed my monitor on lines I KNEW were coming up. And it was difficult to keep from laughing out loud (I didn’t want to wake anyone who was napping by cackling away.) I could not have made a more perfect selection for the day. Anyway, if you’re utterly exhausted and want to watch something for giggles, I’d certainly recommend it.

Somewhere toward the end of the movie, I noticed that my drip wasn’t doing it’s thing and dripping. It was still working, but going extremely slow. I didn’t think we’d ever get that bottle done with. So, instead of being on the fast track, I was going to be done later than usual. By the time all was said and done, it was after 6PM before I left the doctor’s office. Then I had to swing by the pharmacy to drop off a prescription for some sleep assistance. I haven’t been sleeping well at all of late. An hour at a stretch, with a lot of wakeful time in between, so it was time to get some help.

I arrived home more than 12 hours after I had left, just in time to take my chemo. And by the time I did get home, I noticed something. My left wrist felt almost completely numb, as if it had been broken, and both ankles were going numb. Definitely an allergic reaction. And then it clicked … earlier I had been extremely antsy and couldn’t stay seated in the chair, which does happen with me from time to time, so I didn’t think anything about it, but realized, it was a precursor to the swelling happening by the time I arrived home.

Knowing what was happening, I was able to get things under control quickly, but I think it answered the question of what dosage of the steroid the chemo nurse had given me the last time. So, my next visit, the doc and I will have a chat about how to best handle the amount.

The picture of Mount St. Helens is a reminder for me that even after devastation, the tenacity of life can conquer.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Feb. 21.

Beware of the Sypot

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Musings |
Comments (2)

First off a warning to the reader: this post is likely to be riddled with sypot of all kinds — misspelled words, missing words, or maybe a sentence or two that makes absolutely no sense. I am making no apology for how you find this post, it is as I am writing it and will probably not go back when I can see much more clearly than I can now to changfe things. Some of you may think, Aren’t you a writer? Shouldn’t you correctr everyting yoj have in writing? My answer = No. And here’s why.

When I started this blog, I promised to be as real as I could with it in sharing my journey along way. One of the things I have talked about the most is the fatigue that comes with not only the cancer itself, but with the cure. And right now I’m in the Bermuda Triangle of Fatigue coupled with the Catch-22 of not sleeping well. FATIGUE is the most common problem cancer fighters face, no matter hwat your version of the illness, there is this big dude named Fatigue waiting in a dark corner to club you with his baseball bat and knock you to your knees.

As a person with leukemia, the question I hear all the time from everyone around is is How are you feeling? or the statement I hope you are well. Please don’t miunserstand the following … I love that I have so MANY people in my life that CARE enough about me to ask how I am. I honestly do. BUT, it is also the question I have no happy answer for. Right now, there is not a circumstance wihen that question will have an ansswer of Great!! and I know the asker is not expecting that. If I say I’m fine … I’m lying. I am not fine. I have leyukemia and lymphoma and I am taking chemo to help get them back under control and I am now going for an infusion to boost the immune system which should win the academy award for best portrayal of playing dead. When I say I’m okay, take that as the best possible answer I can provide at the moment without lying to anyone. But most of the time, if I’m not lying … and I don’t like to do that to questions genuinely asked, the true and honest answer is going to be, I’m tired. Or I will simply avoid answering the question.

There are only so many times you can say, I’m tired or I’m fatigued or This day is kicking my butt before you feel like a Grade A, Number 1, First Class WHINER. I try to keep things positive most of the time, because I NEED TO. It’s not because I want to come off as little Mary Sunshine adorning everyone’s days with rays of light and rainbows, though I do try to spread happiness and love as I can. But I need to harness the power of the positive to help me defeat this beast trying to take me down. So when pretty much every day I am asekd to answer a question where there is a negative response waitingm, it does tkae me down a notch.

Normally, I don’t care what other people thingk about me. Primarily because it is their perception and feeling and the only thing I can do to sway them one way or the other is to continue being me. But in this case, when the words tired and fatigue are used so frequently, you begin to wonder whether people’s perception of you is changing through no fault of your own. DO THEY consider you a whiner for always being tired? But then I started to wonder whether a better understanding of what is meant by fatigue would help create common understanding for those who have not experienced this level of fatigue. So today, in this post, I’m NOT TELLING you I’m tired, I’m SHOWING you HOW tired I am. I have a form of dyslexia that is much harder to control when I am tired. Most of the time, when “Normal“, when letters arrange themselves in my brain in the wrong order by the time the command hits the fintgers typing the characters, the rearrangement of the owrd has taken place or I immediatelly catch on typeing and correct. Not this time. My brain is somewhat scrambled and the orders it thinks it is goving are not recived correctly by the fingers and mistakes are made. Frequently.

Big deal, right? Wrong. Those who know my nearly obsessive attention to detail when it comes to writing can confirm how much errors normally upsets me. Me On Fatigue = Scrambled Brain (breakfast anyone?) Thius manifests iteslf not only in writing but in speech as well. My entire language center can go on the fritz and sometimes it is really bad. Tonight, as I arrived home from my infusion (actually dropping off a prescription at the pharmacy, but I’ll get to that in a moment) I stard blankly into the car as I tried to remember what I had done with the credit card after the pharmacy clerk had returned it. Then I became confused becauyse I couldn’t remember giving it to her. Then FINALLY realization dawned: I hadn’t given her the credit card becayse the ONLY thinkg I was doing was DROPPING OFF the prescription. Now imagine that about every activity you do throughoyut your day. This truly illustrated a moment of the brain on fatigue. I was getting ready to tear the car aaprt when I remembered about only dropping it off. I DID however search for the excuse note I had drafted for the jury duty summons I have received, as I will not be able to appear. I rmemebered to ask about it (YAY!!! foir me) I remembered to remind the chemo nurse that I needed it. I helped her write it. And then I’m pretty sure I left it on the counter after having input my next appointments into my phone. Brain on Fatigue Fatigue means I can’t think straigh, I can’t write straight, I can’t speak straight, my emotions are a jumble and are raw and right next to the surface. It is easy to make me cry, and easier to piss me off. The good news is that, as always, it is easy to make me smile and laugh as well. More things are funny and more things are terrible. The brakes have come off, all filters have been dissolved, and life feels very much like something you’ll never have control over, even as an illusion, again.

So … after all that? How am I? I’m Tired. I’m Exhausted. I’m Fatigued/. And I very much open that you’ll not think less of me for feeling this way. It is honestly where I am. And hoepfully as well, you can understand how being reminded of such becomes a negative. Because the other thing I am (as in How am I) is De3aling. I am dealing with the cancer, dealing with the cures, dealing with the ftigyue, dealing with the isolation, dealing with my workload, dealing with not sleeping, or sleeping too much, dealing with getting ill and nto haveing anything to fight with … all of it in the ONLY way I know how.

One. Step. At. A. Time.

The picture at the top of the post is one I selected to show the tenacity of my hope; the tenacity of my faith. Tomorrow the sun is going to rise, and tomorrow, I am going to be here to see ti. Mabye not as it rises, but I will know on waking each day (presuming I have actually sletp) anothe r day has dawned. And the picture of the lantern is something in the chemo room the nurses clubbed together to buy as a decoration for the room for the patients. To remind us that through Love and Caring, Faith Makes All Things Possible.

***Note – In the body of this post when I typed what I had intended to be the word typos and it came out sypot, I laughed and couldn’t help but use it for the Subject of this post. So yes, the post Title misspelling was deliberate. Everyuthing else you have suffered through in this post comes from the very addled brain of yours truly./

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Jan. 30.

Unexpected Infusion

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Musings |
Comments (0)

I am getting to this post a little late because things happened fairly quickly and I have been on the tired side of late — kind of like the kitten passed out in the picture. After my latest cold, which took a few weeks to get rid of, I went back on my chemo treatment and when I went to the oncologist, while my leukemia values had improved, my immune system values had not, so she decided to move forward with a treatment to boost my immune system. Remember how happy I was to be skipping the chemo chair this time around? Well, I will now be going for a monthly infusion to help my immune system rally so I am not so prone to getting ill. Eight hours and four bottles worth once a month.

But I will continue to do as I did before … Bring things to work on, bring movies to watch, and basically keep occupied during the process. Rather than be upset that I have another hurdle to go through, I am choosing to be happy because this will help me get well. And if I respond as well to this treatment as I am to the chemo, then I’ll be back to normal in no time at all. And I was absolutely delighted when they hooked up the port and it worked beautifully and didn’t even require flushing. I wasn’t sure whether the port would need to be cleared out or not because it has been nearly 3 years since its last use.

The biggest issue, per usual, was being allergic to Benadryl. My oncologist always gets nervous when starting a new treatment because part of the standard protocol she uses is to give allergy medication in advance of the treatment to minimize the potential for allergic reactions. And I am allergic to so many things … Then came the question as to whether we would use the steroid as we had with the treatment 2013/2014 instead of Benadryl. Slight problem, there were contraindications for the steroid with the chemo. Except because of what the contraindicators were, we decided to go ahead and use the steroids. I’m glad we did because I would have had an allergic reaction.

The biggest issues encountered with this infusion were increased fatigue levels and some joint pain. Fortunately, the joint pain has been manageable, and I have rested more this past week, hence my not posting this immediately. I finally caught up on rest yesterday and am not feeling as fatigued today. I will find out the results of the infusion and how the chemo is going tomorrow … so stay tuned. 🙂

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Apr. 10.

Chemo Comes To An End

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Hallelujah |
Comments (8)

Balloons

***fires off confetti cannon***

I have not posted this chemo cycle like I have done the others … one post per day, because I didn’t want to post a series of DONE posts. Which at the moment is how I feel. DONE.

Done with the monthly trips to kill off the bad blood cells. Done with sitting in a chair for hours on end waiting for the drugs to drip into my system. Done with being a pack mule carrying all the stuff to keep me occupied during those hours. Done with feeling myself swell up like a balloon from water retention. And OH SO READY to get my life back to some semblance of normal.

But as much as I’d love to celebrate (and I will because what is each step forward on life’s journey without a bit of celebration) the END of cancer in my body, I cannot. I will celebrate the end of this round of chemo. I will patiently await for the results of the tests that will determine how effective the chemo has been at ridding me of the bad abnormalities they found in my blood system. But the truth of the matter is, however much I want to say done with cancer, it is not done with me.

This is step 2 along my journey with cancer at best (and may there be many more steps, because as long as I’m stepping, I’m living.) The types of cancer I have, chronic lymphocytic leukemia and small cell non Hodgkin’s lymphoma, are not curable (today), so I will be living with them for a while—may it be a long while. Fortunately, they, by themselves, are not aggressive, and can be managed mostly through monitoring my blood values. As long as I keep up with the monitoring we’ll know how things stand and I’ll be able to take my life back. If the counts get out of whack, then we’ll whack back with some drugs and put them back where they should be.

So for me, this is done with chemo, for now. I don’t know whether I will need chemo again in the future, so I don’t want to be categoric about never needing it again. I might. I don’t know. But for now, let the dance party begin. I am done with this cycle of chemo, and that is enough to celebrate. What happens in the future will happen. And I’ll deal with it, just as I have dealt with this episode. Head on, flinching only when necessary.

The truth is that in looking at the grand design of my life (that which I can see at any rate) since I had to go through chemo—this was good timing. Since I had to do it. I have kept busy. Things have been changing on the writing side of life for the better, and things are getting ready to break open there, so better now than later to be isolated from the rest of the world. I need my energy back because I have so much to accomplish … I’m ready to spread my wings and soar.

The balloons in the post header are for the celebration. It’s time to relaunch my life.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mar. 14.

Cycle 5, Day 3 – Hydration

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Good Day |
Comments (6)

Okay… this post is a day late, but I can sum up the reason in a single word ….

EXHAUSTION

By the time I got home yesterday and handled some things for the day job, I had nothing left in the tank. My entire system threatened to revolt if I attempted to get one more thing done, so I did what I should have and went to bed early. But as tired as I was, I still found plenty to be grateful for. The daily ups and downs of life are truly put into perspective when you sit in a room with people who all have the same goal—to keep on living. Yesterday, we were so full in the chemo room, one man had to start his chemo sitting in a regular chair, until one of the other chairs was freed up. And one patient was having chemo in another room because we were so full.

I sat in my chair, thankful exhaustion was the worst of my woes for the day. Others are not so lucky—discussions of hospice and whether continuing chemotherapy will help to prolong life enough or whether it is time to make the patient as comfortable as possible—my heart goes out to those patients and their families for the hard times ahead. And I keep thinking about the guy I sat next to yesterday. He had to use a walker and had a brace on his knee ON TOP of having chemo. I asked him whether he at least had fun banging up his knee. He had been playing basketball when he hurt himself, but if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t know that he has osteosarcoma. Hopefully because he hurt himself, they will have caught it early enough.

Young, fit, your whole life ahead of you, or so you think, until you take a tumble on the basketball court and find out your horizon may not stretch as far as you once thought. Those were the thoughts I saw behind his eyes, as he went through his first chemo session. It’s not what he expected, but it’s something he has to deal with.

We don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, we don’t know whether the treatment is going to work the way we hope, we can only keep the faith and move forward knowing we’re doing what we can to help our bodies heal. And so for me, I am thankful for exhaustion because things could be worse. I am thankful for my support network. And I’m thankful for the experiences that help me see things from a different perspective.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mar. 12.

Cycle 5, Day 2 – Chemo

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Good Day |
Comments (0)

Despite having taken the sleeping pill as I do on chemo nights, I still didn’t fall asleep until after midnight. And I took the pill early. I was certainly tired enough to sleep … exhausted is more like it, my mind wouldn’t rest until I made a note about something that wouldn’t leave me alone. I might understand if the thing that wouldn’t leave me alone had ANYTHING to do with the chemo, or the edits I’m working on, or even the book I’m currently researching and plotting out. But the pesky bugger was about a blog post I might want to write, one of these days when I have a few spare minutes. Nothing urgent. And something I’m certainly NOT doing this week.

After I made the note, I finally drifted off only to be awakened a few hours later by Denny getting out of bed a few times after Phoenix had gone down and scratched at the door to get out. After he put her back in bed the third time, I got up. I know Phoenix—when she gets an idea stuck in her head, she is NOT going to let it rest until she accomplishes whatever mission she is on. When I followed her, she first went over by the dresser and then to the bedroom door, and I realized she was thirsty. When I go to bed early (to read or work from bed), I bring the girls water dish in and set it next to the dresser so they can get a drink if they need one. They need their liquids just as much as we do. And while we didn’t go to be early, she was thirsty. I filled up a glass with water and she slurped away, only to be joined by Elsa as soon as the water was turned on. It had been a warm day.

After we were up at the necessary time, I told Denny she had been thirsty because he slept through the wee hour drink fest. His response? But it wasn’t time for a drink. Like telling that to a dog is going to mean anything at all. Phoenix didn’t care about what time it was … she was thirsty and wanted a drink. End of story.

Another thing that concerned Denny is that I have been snoring during sleep since starting chemo, and he is concerned about what it means and is disturbed because he doesn’t sleep as well. This coming from the man who can wake the dead with his snores. Yes, I am snoring. I have allergic reactions to the chemo drugs, and though we are running the drip at a slower rate so I don’t stop breathing, that doesn’t mean I am free of any reaction whatsoever. It means that the reaction has been reduced to a level that is not life threatening. I am taking my allergy meds—daily, but my sinuses are perennially stuffed, and I snore. This will improve after the chemo stops and I can lose some of the weight I have gained from the chemo, and I’ll no longer be getting the monthly dose of something I’m highly allergic to. I did recommend he go to Walgreen’s and pick up some earplugs.

Sooooo… the actual chemo today. It was delayed. We arrived right on time, and along with the supervising doctor, so all was good … except the delivery of the chemo drugs had been delayed and they didn’t have my cocktail for the day. But it was expected within the hour, so I kicked back and tried to work on some edits. I did accomplish some, but it became clear to me, my level of exhaustion was hindering the process and I wouldn’t be able to focus on the job at hand without at least a power nap. About the time I had this figured out, the cocktail arrived and I was hooked up. I pushed back and took a trip to the land of nod. And like yesterday, didn’t sleep deeply, but at least rested in limbo land and was able to defuzz my brain enough to get some work done. By the time the chemo was finished, so was I. Absolute exhaustion had set in. I didn’t even want anything for lunch. The only thing I wanted to find was my pillow. An hour later, I was ready to start working again. I still have another hour or so of juice left, and then it’ll be (hopefully) time to get a GOOD night’s sleep.

Denny was able to spend the time waiting in the chemo room with me, and I was the only patient through the time I was there. Apparently the only other patients for chemo that day were injection patients. So it was quiet.

Today, I’m just rolling along like the wave in the picture. Wherever the tide takes me.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mar. 11.

Cycle 5, Day 1 – Chemo

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Good Day |
Comments (0)

This will probably be a short quickly dashed off post because I have taken my meds and it’s been a long day already. I was able to have chemo. (YAY!!!) My liver values had gone back down, so that was a good sign. And they are going to wait until Thursday and then give me the white count booster shot, so all is good there as well. Chemo itself went well today.

On the other hand, I was exhausted. For the first time in any chemo session, I rested for a bit. I was attempting to work on my secret editing project, but knew my brain wasn’t with me, so I kicked back and rested for about an hour… you know the land in between actual wakefulness, and deep sleep where you can hear everything going on around you, but can’t open your eyes??? Yeah, that’s where I was. And after I sat back up and had a little hummus, I was able to focus much more clearly on the task at hand.

We did have a moment this afternoon that caused my chemo nurse some concern—I started coughing. Anyone who knows me well, knows me coughing is not an extraordinary event, but with my white counts being so low, she was concerned I might be coming down with something and wanted to make sure that if it continued after I left, or if my throat became sore, that I would call… regardless of whether the time was midnight or even later. I had been so focused on what I was doing, I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings. After all the other patients had left, and Denny had come to pick me up, I let the chemo nurse know what was most likely the cause of my coughing spasm.

One patient I have met before, came into the chemo room with her son to wait for the doctor to be free because she’d had her labs done, but then needed to see the doctor. The son is a heavy smoker, to the point where his pores exude the smell of smoke. Add that together with me being highly allergic to cigarette smoke, and you have a reason for my coughing spasm. I didn’t think about it when I started wheezing. I advise the nurse I was wheezing, took out my inhaler, and took a puff, then continued on with the task at hand. It was only after the chemo nurse questioned me about the coughing that I took stock of my surroundings and realized what was going on.

Funnily enough, they were sitting on the opposite side of the room from me, but that indicates the strength of the reaction. Anyway, the coughing abated after they left, and I’m doing well. Except for now being extremely tired and in search of my pillow.

The picture at the top of the post I thought apt because the mill may be old, but it can still grind exceedingly fine. And I feel a bit like having been run through the mill. 😀 Until tomorrow, goodnight.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mar. 10.

Will She … Or Won’t She…

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Musings |
Comments (4)

Still trekking through forest, with the promise of a clearing ahead. Tomorrow begins chemo cycle 5—with a bit of luck.

Today I had my labs, and my white counts continue to drop … not excessively, but enough to make me under the doctor’s cut off point. No shot was given because they wanted to run the values by the doctor. Since I will receive the shot to boost my white counts on Thursday, the nurse thought it likely that the doctor would choose to wait. The values are not dropping fast enough to cause alarm, but they definitely need to be watched.

I have also slacked off on drinking the dandelion tea on a daily basis and it showed up in my liver function values. *crosses fingers* Hopefully the values will not have raised to the point where I cannot have chemo tomorrow. So if the liver values are too high, then I’ll be sent home after getting a shot to boost up my white count which is too low. Figures my body can’t decide which way it wants to be.

After giving me the CBC results, the nurse told me to get some rest. And I’ll try, but it doesn’t always work out the way I’d hoped. For one thing, the “spring forward” time change always messes with my ability to sleep. I try to adjust my sleep hours, but what usually happens is I end up staring at the ceiling and getting far less rest than I would have had we simply left time alone for a change.

Tomorrow will be an early day, so I’d best get back to my edits so I can at least try to get some sleep. Wish me luck on being able to move forward with chemo.

PS – the low white counts mean continued isolation. Can’t risk being exposed to the sniffles at this point.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Feb. 11.

Cycle 4, Day 1 – Chemo

By Liana Gardner | Posted in Good Day |
Comments (4)

My Status: A little fuzzy around the edges
Mood: Good

I feel like there should be a warning at the beginning of this post …

****WARNING**** Mind explosion in progress.

In a nation focused on the freezing weather, the nice market boost based on the words of new Fed chief, Yellin, and the controversy surrounding whether Blake Griffin actually smacked Justin Bieber in Starbucks, or (more seriously) the death of Shirley Temple Black, my update about how chemo went is small potatoes. But I’m going to give it anyway. 😉

Tuesday’s are my loooooong day, but at least I was able to start my day earlier than normal so we weren’t making our way home at six o’clock. There is just something psychologically daunting about having been sitting in a chair all day and to not be finished by five. Last time I found myself staring at the drip and timing the next one. Not really a healthy mental place to be when I could have been focusing on getting something done. Anyway, starting early helped tremendously because there was still daylight on the drive home. However, first thing sitting in the chair, I was antsy. Could not get comfortable and couldn’t sit still. My fault, entirely. Last night, for some silly reason I can’t even remember, I decided not to use my bed of nails, even though I knew my lower back was having problems. I paid the price for that decision today. Since I couldn’t concentrate on what I had intended to do, I started a movie and things settled down.

Today became a reminder for how truly blessed I am in my journey. I have people who care, people who are willing to drive me to and/or from the treatments, people who are praying for me and my recovery. And I’m blessed in some aspects with my particular diagnosis and resulting treatments because while there have been one or two bumps along the way, my journey so far has been relatively smooth (and I’d really like it to stay that way).

I was reminded about the differences in diagnosis when I learned this morning of a very good friend who went to the ER because of a cough and has been diagnosed with lung cancer. And a reminder from my chemo nurse when she shared that she had to take her father for a lung biopsy tomorrow—and her father is not listening to the doctors, but dismissing them as being over zealous in their testing. And the reminder of how my journey have been relatively good came from a patient who I’d had chemo with before … she arrived to find out she may not be able to have chemo today, but would definitely be checking into the hospital for the next 4-5 days because of some negative test results.

In some ways the reminder of the journey itself hit harder because I watched her face and saw the reaction to learning she had a serious issue going on that had to be dealt with in the immediate future. I remembered my reaction to being told to go home, chemo wasn’t happening that week. How much worse to be told you’d be going directly to the hospital next door? Fortunately, she was able to have chemo prior to going next door to the hospital, but it was definitely a blow to her.

At the end of the day it was me, the other patient, and the chemo nurse chatting. And the other patient said something that made me count another blessing—the worst part of her journey was the exhaustion and she wished she could have my energy. I’ve been tired, I have worked through exhaustion, but I have been fortunate enough to have more energy on a regular basis than most of the chemo patients I’ve come into contact with. Okay, for starters, I really don’t sit still well and never have, so she was seeing me at the end of a day where I’d been in the chair for eight hours already. But the truth is that I have not had many of the exhausted days where the act of opening your eyelids should be greeted with trumpets blaring and confetti falling. I am more tired than normal for me, and my ability to focus on things has been severely depleted (like starting this post thinking I need to make tea, reminded myself 3 times before I realized I had half a cup at my elbow ready to drink—okay, that may just be chemo muzziness settling in). But I also know things could be a LOT worse. I’m thankful they aren’t.

Now I need to grab my HOT tea (finally made a fresh mug) and see what I can get done before getting up and doing the chemo thing all over again. I loved the picture for this post because today I felt a little like a kitten in a pot … not really happy with being confined, but not able to run away either. Besides, the kitten is too stinkin’ cute not to post.

Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

UA-19119025-1