That warm blanket really was the highlight of the past 24
hours. I’m not exaggerating to say it was literally the worst I have ever felt
in my life and unfortunately, I think it’s safe to say that wasn’t the last
night where I’ll be wiping tears away. There are people in far worse condition
than I and honestly, as I was laying alone, it wasn’t fear of dying or being
alone. I think it’s just an overwhelming feeling of all of it. No one thing is
that bad, but when you add it all up, it’s a big honkin’ horse pill to swallow…and
I’m just gagging it down because like it or not, it has to go down the gullet.
So, here’s where things may get a little graphic, and I
think it’s important that I give forewarning about it because being sick with
cancer isn’t a sterile thing. It’s
messy, it’s awful, and it robs you of every dignity you otherwise had. I also
want to write this out because I remember reading some rather stark and
less-than-pleasant details on my friend’s blog who is on the downside of AML. I
think that if someone reads this in the future, I don’t want to be stark or
gross, but I do want to be honest about what’s happening. Again, not fun, not
pleasant, but neither will I sugar-coat it.
About 7:00 last night when I started crashing, I just wasn’t
even strong enough to unplug the IV pole and walk ten feet across the room to
use the toilet. The nurse brought in one of those commode chairs and I bristled
at the thought of using a bathroom in any place other than, well, a bathroom,
but the alternative wasn’t a good one either! Over the course of the night, I
performed my duties many times and the diarrhea that made it into the little
pot meant I was clean in my bed. Small favors, indeed!
No less than ten times did the IV alarm go off and wake me
up and I have to say that constant, rhythmic beeping was akin to a Chinese
water torture, yet I just didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. I’ve
spent most of the day just sleeping, unable to really eat, not feeling like
doing much of anything other than just sleep.
The doc says that for a couple of days, that’s probably OK, so I will
probably return to that regimen when I’m finished here. Taking a shower was today’s delight and I
think that’s why I have any energy at all. That, and my “Cancer is my Bitch” t-shirt
arrived. I’m wearing it proudly right
now.
OK, no eloquence tonight, just the facts…I’m going to sleep.
Thanks all…stay strong, be well.
Praying for you my friend...
ReplyDeleteCancer sucks. I wish you didn't have to know it's anger...Our love to you Todd...
ReplyDeleteWhat Bette said. Times 2. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteBT...I meet many impressive people everyday...but Sir...thank you for your candor..your courage and your obvious strength. I am here for you my friend. Praying hard and sending positive energy your way daily! Fight the fight Todd.
ReplyDeleteI feel your pain, man. When I ...
ReplyDeleteWell, you already know "when I." My wife just told me that she got up countless times to turn off that infernal beeping when I was asleep or too tired to turn it off. It dawns on me that she probably did that many times that I never knew about.
My wife's in the recliner muttering, "He needs someone in there; that's what he needs."
Do they have sleeper chairs like I had at Vanderbilt, and is there anyone who can stay overnight in one? There are a couple young ladies I know who would come out there right now and do that for you.
Thanks, Paul...they do have some sort of chair, but it looks like something out of the Jetson's rather than something comfortable. The IV pole was mercifully quiet last night!
DeleteWould you be able to use an electric blanket? It'd be nonstop warm.
ReplyDelete