Warning: this is not an upbeat post.
Dear God, I know that you cannot give me what I most desire for Christmas, my health. So I am aiming for a little easier-attainable goal.
Could you please give me a week or so, WITHOUT complications?
I had my first chemo Dec. 13th. And I felt pretty good about the whole thing, considering: that I experienced male-symptom heart attack symptoms about 20 minutes after the introduction of the first chemo drug. Yes. It felt like ye olde Mack Truck sitting on my sternum (breast bone). My partner flagged down a nurse, telling her that "we need HELP here". The young gal apparently thought he was kidding or overreacting? Then my gluteus max muscles knotted and constricted, very painfully (I don't cry easily folks), enough to bring me to tears. L went looking for "my" nurse, and she practically ran to the side of my chair. (Didja know they give you chemo in a recliner-style chair?) And stopped the chemo. And asked very pointed questions about the level of pain, location of pain, etc.
She started me on a heavier-dose of Benadryl-style drug(s), which made me sound as though I was auditioning for an understudy role for Foster Brooks (an old-time comedian, who sounded like someone genuinely inebriated). And then she resumed the chemo, but at a much slower drip-rate. Plus still had to administer the second drug. So the expected 5 hours was about 6.5 hrs. Sigh.
But I felt pretty good, and we even went to dinner following this incident. Even had a beer, just like "real" people are known to do.
Returned to Duluth on the 14th, still doing pretty well.
Yeah, dumb me. Expected this would last. On the 16th, I started bleeding. Spent Friday night on the futon, which L had draped with a plastic tarp and then an old towel over that. When I was still bleeding Sat. morning, we went to the emergency room. After tests (don't want to go into details), I was admitted to the hospital, where I spent a restless night on one of those little crib-sized beds. The only good thing I can say about that evening is that L picked up a pizza that we shared. Food of the gods...
Finally begged and pleaded for a release Sunday morning. The wonderful female gyn who had hospital duty Saturday/Sunday said she wanted to see me today (this afternoon). I was glad that she was on duty, for I am switching to her (from the male doc that I never really "warmed up" to). One good thing that came out of this.
Dropped a couple of more pounds (hospital food SUCKS) by Sunday morning, so I am on a "junk food" diet until my weight stabilizes. Any excuse to eat ice cream, chocolate, steak, mmm....
And so it goes...
Oh, folks: please stop telling me that attitude is everything, that I am strong, that I will get thru this, that "it's only hair". When YOU are yourself experiencing this, then I give you leave to make these statements. So far, all a "positive" attitude has gotten me, is another "downturn". So (pardon my language) piss on that positive attitude shit. It is hard enough to be upbeat about where my life has headed. So please, PLEASE back off.
Christmas Eve in two days, and I hope I will be around for yet another one next year. Should we put that on a "board" and everyone can take chances? Not a positive week, can you tell?