Starting in the middle of the story seems as natural a way as any, given I’ve put off starting this blog for probably 18 months. In the middle of the action. In the middle of the bad action dream.
It took me down a peg this week – my cancer drug, the miracle drug, ipilimumab mon amour, the one that barely makes you sick (according to the sales pitch I chose to hear). It does give some patients diarrhea, yes. Rash, too. Those were the main drawbacks presented.
It took me down two pegs, then a notch, then six notches down the post and over to the left a little. All the knobs turned down to 1. That’s how I’ve been. Halloween was where it started getting bad. That was nine days ago, but could also be a year. My connection to the outside world has been tenuous this week, strangely mediated by my glasses (eyes have been too sensitive to wear contacts). I can’t remember the last time I used cash, rode the subway, or even left the house. The worst has been inability to eat without pain. Food is central to me, it’s as much a coping mechanism as humor. I had instant empathy for everyone I know with chronic digestive distress.
The cancer drug is the bigger dog. The stomach pain of this week is the smaller dog, always the one to cause the fuss, to assert itself, to yap the loudest. Give me something to think about beyond The Cancer. Luckily the kids were at school all week, but the one evening I had to be with them on my own, when things were at their worst but the oncologist hadn’t yet decided to go ahead and prescribe steroids, they watched wide-eyed while I rubbed my belly and moaned because it felt like I was being stabbed, repeatedly. It was like labor without the payback. I became badly dehydrated. My eyes hurt. My eyes felt like they had been impaled on popsicle sticks and subjected to severe beatings.
And then yesterday I took a dose of a steroid, and within 90 minutes I was feeling generally good (although still completely tapped out and barely able to motivate myself out of bed). By dinnertime I was feeling so cavalier I had some avocado salad. And then I had a lot more. All the nutrients were dancing and my mouth felt alive again! Eating is fundamental!
The violent smackdown happened almost immediately. Fresh veggies and fruit will need to wait a while. This morning I restarted my regimen and have not yet fallen prey to anything remotely fresh.
I’m a machine and this is a systemic take-down. A reboot. This will tear me down and rebuild me, like the Bionic Woman, but without the circuitry. Here’s hoping.
4 thoughts on “In medias res”
That sounds horrible. Big hug!