I keep thinking it can't get any worse, but then it does. In stages and fluctuations. Its moved from a funny stomach, to a wonky stomach plus fatigue, to fatigue that was manageable emotionally, if not physically.
Chemo dump is on a whole new level today. Like the amp in Spinal Tap. You know, the one that goes all the way to 11. Chemo plus sleeplessness equals...seriously, fuck me, this is awful. I am having a hard time staying awake for more than 15 minutes and I ache. Everywhere aches, my skin, neck muscles, scalp, toenails. Toenails ache, who knew.
The only exercise I am getting is in my head. The tug of war between the voice that pleads to have my old life back and the one that shouts that I have to be stronger than all of this. Who has the advantage depends on whether I'm grateful or angry that it is an absolutely beautiful day in Portland. Right now I have the windows and curtains wise open, and am curled up with my new quilt in bed, closely supervised by the cats. Grateful that its not only a perfect day for a ride, but also the perfect day to rest and heal.
Tonight, who knows. That is part of the sonofabitch of all of this. Being trapped in my own body and in my own head. The downward spiral of anger and loss and sadness is so easy to get trapped within and, at night, there is no one that can pull me out of it. Except me. And my goddamn toenails hurt too much to pull anything right now.
But it will get better. It will get better because it has to. The challenge is not losing my mind in the meantime.