Time is slowing to a crawl. This morning I was up at about 2AM and my dry mouth and sore throat were just distracting enough to keep me awake. But I did go to the Ted Kooser workshop and lasted all 5 hours. It was enjoyable and helpful; he is such a good and gentle man and talented writer and poet. It was also encouraging to see someone who has been through the exact treatment and survived. I spent a few minutes talking with Ted at the break, and he had the same chemo (Cisplatin) and the same protocol of radiation 11 years ago. He was so beat up by the radiation, he only did one cycle of chemo. His salivary glands never came back, but he has learned to live with that with minimal discomfort. He seems to be a man that really appreciates the small details of life each day. Affirming...I want to be there. The only food that he can't eat is rice, because of the stickiness of it. Though I enjoyed the workshop, as the day wore on, I spent more and more time debating with myself "should I stay or should I go." I stayed.
My moods seem to change more quickly than time. I am up, then I feel down, then I feel some fear, then back to being hopeful. I don't know. I feel tired a lot, and maybe that will help me in some way to get through this...providing I will sleep. Even when I am just lying in bed, I can sometimes get in a zone where I feel at peace and comfortable. I took an Oxycodone today; I have some fear about that...not that I'll become dependent, but that I should save the big guns for when things are worse. It is, I am sure, a false belief about "toughening." I also try not to wear gloves before Thanksgiving...don't ask...that's usually a challenge in Nebraska.
I'd rather do a "deeper things" post, and I thought I'd be inspired by the workshop to do that...but I feel tired right now, and I didn't want to let 2 days go without posting. I am also failing today in my "one day at a time" rule, and I am really wanting it to be next Saturday; next Saturday I can think about being half way home and two of three chemo cycles completed. Until then, I am feeling a nagging feeling that this journey will just go on and on and on... It takes a physical toll, it takes an emotional toll, and the bruises and the discouragement are slow to heal.
I am discouraging myself with this entry. I hope to stay honest and whether I am encouraged or discouraged, not edit my moods. Here is one thing I am learning about this process. One day doesn't predict the next and there are spaces in time that are so huge I can get lost in them. I am all over the map.
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Steve,
ReplyDeleteWhen you write it become so clear that the struggle is a huge one. I can imagine that the moods change from one moment to the next. Do stay honest in your communication with all of us. We are here for you and I know if we could we would all take this most difficult of times away from you. For now we listen closely to each and every word and we pray and we send our love. Becoming discouraged would be an easy thing to do under the circumstances and it is more than understandable. Today will soon be over and you have run a good race. Rest tonight, take your meds and find what little comfort you can in knowing that you are loved by so many. Nite, nite. Cindy
I'm so glad you were able to make the workshop. I think it will mean a great deal having Ted's experience to look to for hope and courage as you move forward in treatment. I appreciate your honesty--that the moods change. It's a very human statement. I do understand this...pain has a way of teaching us to be fully present when really what we want is to run the hell away from it. It will be a gift though when you are through this...it really will. It can teach us what NOTHING else can, not that any one of us are first in line to volunteer for this gift of pain. Hang in there..this too shall pass. I'm so glad you were able to ride with Joyce the other day. Let me know if you need anything. Jodi
ReplyDeleteSteve,
ReplyDeleteOne more day is gone; one more day closer to the treatment being over. I wish we all could take a turn for you. I continue to pray for strength for you and that He will give you peace despite the discomfort and pain.
Cindy N.
I noticed a flower growing in our yard today that made me think of you. It is an iris and it is one of my favorite flowers. They are a Spring flower, but this particular white one reblooms in the Fall after being dormant for the summer. What a joy it will be when you "rebloom" after your treatment (dormancy) is over!! In the meantime, we are there to help until you are ready to bloom again!
ReplyDeleteMy heart swells with the poetic and fierce love of your friends here, Steve, as well as your raw courage in this horrible tromp. I simply echo 'yea, amen!' to these voices and prayers.... over and over and over until you shake your head, sip a soothing drink (anything!) and say, "Wasn't that one helluva ride?"
ReplyDeleteAll over the map, but nearing real milestones, and wise enough to know that. Of course you feel jangled and pounded as the journey continues. Thank you for keeping us all with you and know that you are with all of us in this circle. You are with hearts beyond this circle. You are carried in the greatest heart of all,carried with utmost love through each inch, each second of this by the One who knows as only you know what the journey really is--who is at once origin, companion, and destination.
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