of feeling like crap.
I am HUNGRY but can’t eat. When I say “can’t” I mean just that. The thought of consuming anything makes me hurl. I’ve gone from a healthy, pudgy 250# to a skinny 165.
I have all of these things that I want to do, but lack the energy to do them. I’ve been stuck in the house for weeks. I can’t (well, I could, but wouldn’t enjoy myself) leave. Every movement brings digestive upset of the vomiting kind. I’m dehydrated a result of the vomiting (which has been a daily event since 24 Sept.)
I am short with people, verging on being rude. Why? BECAUSE I ACHE FROM THE SOLES OF MY FEET TO THE CROWN OF MY HEAD. My buddy David is often left scratching his head, wondering why I’ve been so mean to him. And I have been. I know it.
Yes, I’ve told my physician. His usual reply, “Well Drew, you’re really sick and it’s going to take time for you to heal.” (If I’m going to heal at all). I remind him that I wasn’t this ill until I started taking these drugs. I remind him that I was COMPLETELY unaware of the tumour until I was told about it and other than “I wish for death” migraines, didn’t think anything was seriously wrong. I also remind him, that there are days when I just wish I hadn’t been told and what……just allowed to die.
I do not have a death wish. Please do not think that I’m contemplating suicide or anything. I admit, I’m too much of a wuss to actively participate in my own demise. I always thought that I’d live forever, or at least until my 100s. But truth be told, if I fell asleep and didn’t wake, I’d be ok with that.
Of course, when I feel like this I wonder why I just wasn’t allowed to die. THIS IS NOT LIVING. I only exist and that’s just barely. I try to put on a happy face. I do what I can, when I can, but just getting up to go to the loo is exhausting.
“Don’t push yourself,” I’m often told. Well if I don’t, who will?
Now here’s the cosmic rub. The Lady Donna, who nursed me back to some semblance of health, has died. She died from almost the same thing that I have. Why her and not me? The woman who filled the maternal gap after my mother died…is gone.
Ahh, I can hear someone say, “you need to talk to a counsellor.” I ask, why? Just what would a counsellor say that I’ve not already heard?
Take it one day at a time.
Remain positive. There are breakthroughs every day.
What is your faith? Draw strength from that.
Keep a stiff upper lip. At least you’re alive.
I tell you this. I’ve cried more in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years.
But, I am thankful. I’m thankful to and for my dearest online friend, Cathy. Unbeknownst to her, I’ve received great comfort from re-reading Return to One and just hearing her voice is soothing to me. I’ve reconnected with a long lost friend from high school, Kim and chatting with her and listening to her has been a great help as well. She and I have exchanged books and play a rather heated game or two of Words with Friends. I am thankful for Jay Gill, the Lady Donna’s husband for being Jay Gill. Thomi, my ivory sister, trainer, nutritionist, guru and friend who makes sure that I know I am loved and valued. Thomi’s husband, Rob is now and will always be my hero. Like his wife, he also makes me feel safe, valued and loved. There are many others, Dan and Jeanellen and their kids, my girlfriend who just up and moved to Florida, yea Viki, I’m talking about you. Ron and Fran another power couple who put a smile on my face. I know that I’m forgetting some, but…now I’m tired and can’t focus.
With that said….
I don’t “want” to die. But if I can’t enjoy the “fullness of life” what’s the point? Really, what is the bloody point? Well, tomorrow is yet, another day. Let’s see what it brings.
a pui tardi
Today, peace is elusive. But, I’ll keep looking.