Last Few Days

I noticed a distinctive difference in myself starting on Wednesday this week.  I woke up and for the first time since July didn’t feel seriously nauseous.  I was able to eat breakfast, have a snack and some lunch and still eat dinner without incident.  The best part, I even had more energy than normal.  I took the stairs at work and caught myself dancing and singing with the radio.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had done those things.  The last time I felt well enough to do anything at all, energy and eating wise, was family reunion and even then it wasn’t perfect.  There were moments even then I wasn’t feeling this well.

Thursday, I was tentative when I woke; what if the feelings of Wednesday were just some sort of mirage and I was going to be paying for it?  I lucked out; it was real.  I was able to eat and still dance to the radio.  I had enough energy that for the first time in months I cooked dinner for Milo.  I could even help with chores.  I know this all sounds immensely silly and possibly unimportant, but when you are used to being so exhausted that at two in the afternoon it took a nap and keeping food down means you take about half a sandwich and pray a whole lot that the Ativan works…well, you get me.  I was so happy to have a piece of my life back, to feel good, that I started to think maybe I had been crazy.  This has all been some wicked nightmare and I didn’t actually have cancer; I’ve been fine and the doctors are wrong –delusions are so nice, aren’t they?  But really, I’m fine…

Then, Friday came.  While I was feeling well enough, breakfast apparently was a bit much on my stomach and I felt rather nauseous.  When we arrived at the doctor’s, my previously good mood (because, hey, when you’re finally feeling good your spirits start to soar!) was ruined.  I walked in, was greeted by a man dressed in a skin tone unitard that was “streaking” since they were doing a tribute to the 60s this week (I had forgotten about that), and took my seat.  I slumped in my chair and nearly cried.  It was still real; I still had cancer and toxins were still going to be pumped into my blood.  Milo and I still can’t work on having a family yet.  It was a lot to take after two days of feeling so well.

Chemo was uneventful, as always, though the nurse was a little concerned by my down attitude.  I perked up eventually and even managed to have some lunch, which made Carla, my nurse, very happy.  Dinner even went down without issue.  Milo and I were really excited by the progress, even if the doctor didn’t seem to be.  He was concerned that I still spent the better part of two weeks feeling nauseous (though I kept insisting I had been sick like that before chemo!)  Dr. Brooks decided it was in my best interest to decrease the doses back to normal ranges rather than pushing our luck.  I didn’t necessary agree, but I didn’t get much of a say either.  He did say I could travel for Thanksgiving if I wanted, but I need to keep in mind that I might not feel well.  And, he decided when my next MRI would be: September 30th.  We’ll see what is going on with the liver mass then and sometime soon do a chest x-ray to see what is going on with the mets to my lungs.  Fingers crossed.


2 thoughts on “Last Few Days

  1. Deb says:

    Praise God for the good days!!!

  2. jdp64 says:

    Remembering that you have been promised by God for total healing, I think you can safely uncross your fingers. Love ya!

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