Chemo treatments are going well but weekly treatments have wrecked havoc on my routine. I've actually been writing posts like a crazy woman but never seem to finish any of them. My biggest excuse is drug induced brain fog. Friday has become chemo day and the weekend is commited to recovery. On those days, due to the drugs I take, I have been known to speak nonsense, continually repeat statements as I remember very little and in the process keep everyone entertained. I intentionally avoid writing on these days. The spoken word can sometimes be forgotten or an argument can be made that disputes any statement made. It becomes a matter of "your word against their's". In other words, you stand a chance of lying your way out of just about anything verbal. Putting thoughts in black and white makes them more permanent and leaves undenialable proof that you may have temporarily lost your mind. I fear these incidences could come back to haunt me. Anything written on those days requires extra time and attention for proofreading. That leaves Monday through Thursday as days to accomplish all necessary tasks. I'm learning that cramming a 5 day work week into those 4 days can be draining. Add attempted daily workouts, required personal paperwork and the occasional load of laundry and you can see why my time for writing posts has become so limited.
Documenting this journey is very important to me. Blogging...writing... has always been and will continue to be my therapy. But life must be lived. So...if you are interested in reading my blatherings, check back from time to time. I'm beginning to get a handle on things (bah ha ha) and will be posting again very soon.
Before I go, I want to share a "????" moment I had while receiving one of my latest treatments. It validates my reasons for refusing to permanently document anything while in a drug induced state.
A "Did I really just say that?" occurrence:
Believe it or not, I welcome Fridays. Friday is treatment day. My reasons for embracing this day with open arms are simple to me yet some might find them odd. Then again, many find me odd in general. My number one reason is a much needed 3-4 hour nap. I've found the most annoying side effect of chemo to be the inability to sleep. Until a week ago, the most consistent sleep I got was during my treatments. I've since discovered a way to ensure a good night's rest giving me much more energy and an overall feeling of "wellness". Even still, who doesn't love a good nap. A mega dose of Benadryl via IV accompanied by Ativan takes me directly to dreamland. Within 10 minutes of the meds coursing through my veins, I'm a goner. Friends and family take turns transporting me to and fro each week and we always share a few laughs over statements and proclamations made during those 10 minutes. I rapidly descend from reasonably normal mental faculties to those somewhere close to what is considered deranged. The interesting part is in spite of my inability to govern what I say, there is a part of my mind that is able to comprehend and remember the absurdity of it all. Even as I make my nonsensical statements, in the deep dark recesses of my mind I'm asking myself "What the heck???".
In addition to all the drugs, treatments require I be given large quantities of fluids. As we know, "fluid in" means "fluid out". My naps are always interrupted by the need to relieve my bladder of the enormous burden. Ever the independent girl, I argue with anyone wanting to help me find my way to the restroom. I stubbornly and drunkenly navigate my way through the chairs of other patients, dragging my IV tower along, doing my very best to focus on not tripping over the wheels of the tower or my own two feet. Most days I succeed. How I actually maneuver the act of "going potty"...well, I don't really know. What I do know is that I perform the act with my eyes closed. And it is dark when my eyes are closed. So very, very dark. So much so that I made this proclamation to gal pal, "K" upon returning to my chair.
Documenting this journey is very important to me. Blogging...writing... has always been and will continue to be my therapy. But life must be lived. So...if you are interested in reading my blatherings, check back from time to time. I'm beginning to get a handle on things (bah ha ha) and will be posting again very soon.
Before I go, I want to share a "????" moment I had while receiving one of my latest treatments. It validates my reasons for refusing to permanently document anything while in a drug induced state.
A "Did I really just say that?" occurrence:
Believe it or not, I welcome Fridays. Friday is treatment day. My reasons for embracing this day with open arms are simple to me yet some might find them odd. Then again, many find me odd in general. My number one reason is a much needed 3-4 hour nap. I've found the most annoying side effect of chemo to be the inability to sleep. Until a week ago, the most consistent sleep I got was during my treatments. I've since discovered a way to ensure a good night's rest giving me much more energy and an overall feeling of "wellness". Even still, who doesn't love a good nap. A mega dose of Benadryl via IV accompanied by Ativan takes me directly to dreamland. Within 10 minutes of the meds coursing through my veins, I'm a goner. Friends and family take turns transporting me to and fro each week and we always share a few laughs over statements and proclamations made during those 10 minutes. I rapidly descend from reasonably normal mental faculties to those somewhere close to what is considered deranged. The interesting part is in spite of my inability to govern what I say, there is a part of my mind that is able to comprehend and remember the absurdity of it all. Even as I make my nonsensical statements, in the deep dark recesses of my mind I'm asking myself "What the heck???".
In addition to all the drugs, treatments require I be given large quantities of fluids. As we know, "fluid in" means "fluid out". My naps are always interrupted by the need to relieve my bladder of the enormous burden. Ever the independent girl, I argue with anyone wanting to help me find my way to the restroom. I stubbornly and drunkenly navigate my way through the chairs of other patients, dragging my IV tower along, doing my very best to focus on not tripping over the wheels of the tower or my own two feet. Most days I succeed. How I actually maneuver the act of "going potty"...well, I don't really know. What I do know is that I perform the act with my eyes closed. And it is dark when my eyes are closed. So very, very dark. So much so that I made this proclamation to gal pal, "K" upon returning to my chair.
"Have you ever closed your eyes and realized how dark it is? So dark that the dark actually touches your eyeballs? I mean you can actually feel the dark touching your eyeball! Like the dark is sitting on your eye!"
The words were said with much excitement and conviction as I was sure I had just discovered something unique and grand. Let's just say the words were said with as much excitement and conviction as can be exhibited through slurred speech. I remember "K" chuckling while my mind waged an internal war over whether or not this made any kind of sense. The "real me" kept urging me to shut up and stop the insanity as I know I'm not that dense while the "drugged me" thought it was the most profound statement ever made. I didn't know whether to pout because I wasn't being taken seriously or to hide my head in shame. Before a decision could be made, the mental war was over and I was fast asleep once again.
This is but one of the tiny things that keeps me laughing each day. I believe the ability to laugh at oneself is the key to a happy life. Thank goodness I find myself funny whether anyone else does or not. I guess that means I can relate to my own sense of humor. For now, I can chalk up my self-induced chuckles to the effects brought on by drugs. Not sure what excuse I will use when chemo isn't part of my daily life.
Until next time...
-L
The words were said with much excitement and conviction as I was sure I had just discovered something unique and grand. Let's just say the words were said with as much excitement and conviction as can be exhibited through slurred speech. I remember "K" chuckling while my mind waged an internal war over whether or not this made any kind of sense. The "real me" kept urging me to shut up and stop the insanity as I know I'm not that dense while the "drugged me" thought it was the most profound statement ever made. I didn't know whether to pout because I wasn't being taken seriously or to hide my head in shame. Before a decision could be made, the mental war was over and I was fast asleep once again.
This is but one of the tiny things that keeps me laughing each day. I believe the ability to laugh at oneself is the key to a happy life. Thank goodness I find myself funny whether anyone else does or not. I guess that means I can relate to my own sense of humor. For now, I can chalk up my self-induced chuckles to the effects brought on by drugs. Not sure what excuse I will use when chemo isn't part of my daily life.
Until next time...
-L