The day of being half way through chemo felt good, for a day. Well not even that, by 4pm I was in bed. The session itself was enlivened by the only person I have met in the western world who thinks Trump will put America straight. She'd seemed such a lively, lovely, kind lady and luckily left the rest of us speechless. The alternative of the ward agreeing would have been depressing. One lady I also see in clinic finished her last session and there was a sense of just trucking on through it but that has come to blows with the struggle that is being able to do nothing. Now it feels like three more to go, of a different drug, so different and unknown side effects. For now I can do literally nothing. When standing up makes you feel sick you tend to stay prone and this is the first time I've been able to prop myself up to read or write. That's four days of lying down, trying to eat so I don't feel weak and feeble with hunger, because that feels ever so slightly worse. As this veers through it's disgusting path, the thought of surgery looms. Whilst you can only take one step at a time, feeling this battered and weak whilst more brutal surgery approaches feels like I'm trying to do a marathon without any training. People say you would have to have more chemo if you needed it, I am still not so sure. Today I feel like giving up on this round, of course I won't, but I really hope tomorrow is better. I have new meds, let's hope they make the next few days better, even if they don't make the immediate aftermath that much more tolerable. The cards I should credit.
No comments:
Post a Comment