Soon after I started my blog I discovered many other cancer blogs. There are a lot of them out there.There was one young man in his 20's. He was a private person and his blog was anonymous. He was keeping his cancer to himself at work and with most of his family. It made me very sad for him. He did not seem to have very much support. I wanted to crawl through the computer and do something. I commented on his blog but right about that time he took a turn, went into the hospital  and that was his last post. I checked his blog so many times, I still check it on occasion.

I found a blog by a woman who had started a public blog, like mine, for her friends and relatives and quickly decided she needed to shut that blog down and start an anonymous blog. She found that she was sugar coating things too much. I can understand that.

I know that I have sugar coated things a bit. Why would I want everyone to know my deepest darkest fears? Everyone has their own and I'm sure with the slightest bit of imagination you can imagine mine. It's not a good use of time. 

But I am here to confess of unintentional sugar coating. That detox shit. It wasn’t over and it was way worse than my last post reflected. For all I know, it’s still not over. I’m not completely sure, I do know that it was still bad at my last post and I think I was trying to fake it until I could make it!

There was a full week of physical shit. Jittery legs, impossible to be comfortable in my own skin, day or night. Nauseous at some level most of the time. So, very little sleep. At my last writing I think I thought it was coming to an end. That was wishful thinking. The physical side is still here at times, especially at night. I’m not back to being able to sleep quite yet. Last night, for example I was awake every hour, I would doze, then wake up. Many nights I spend in different rooms in the house hoping for the miracle of sleep. I took Ambien one night and fell asleep but woke up for several hours in the middle of the night. 

The second week was what I will call the week of the dementors. I feel like Harry Potter’s dementors came and sucked my soul. I felt like a hollow shell. No energy. No desire. No motivation. I cried a lot; long and hard, short and sweet, buckets of tears. I go to a counselor these days and usually I am a mix of emotions with her. We laugh and cry, both. That week I sat in her office and cried for the better part of the hour. I just dumped holy shit all over her. I’m still crying more than usual. Like right now, for example.

I’ve lost track of when I went off the pain meds 2 weeks? 3 weeks? I can’t keep track. And I feel like those weeks were so very foggy. I want a do-over for so many things. Lucy, you have to come back for a do-over, cause I can hardly remember you being here. I need a do-over for Jennifer’s day of visiting and Lou’s run, just last Friday. Blur, blur, blur. It’s all in a fog.

But, now I think I’m really starting to get better. Yesterday morning before I opened my eyes I felt different. Better. One of those days when I had moments of feeling normal. I’ve been working to feel better. I am proactively seeking better. I am going to Physical Therapy with my miracle worker PT, Tricia. She is helping me get strong and pain free. I’m going to massage therapy with Sue, just down the street every week or two when I can get in to see her. I went to acupuncture, but it didn’t settle quite right, but I tried! I’m doing all the magic that Dr. Standish prescribed. I’m walking Wilson a little harder, a little farther every day. I’m using Ellen at 3:00 to do some floor work at home and even started using some light weights (thanks for the nudge, Maggie). I’m trying to eat healthy. I’m still not drinking much to speak of (a couple of beers here or there). So I damn sure should be feeling better. But what a slog, what a fucking slog.

So, there, no sugar coating this time.

I see Dr. Kaplan on Thursday and I’m looking forward to that. Recently in email he’s commented that we wouldn’t scan for awhile since all those tests for my pain came back clear. I hope he is still thinking that way. Last we time we peeked at the liver the tumors were shrinking and I am of the belief that they are continuing to shrink.

I want summer. 

I want to be strong again. 

I want to feel stamina and vitality.  

Yesterday morning, one of those moments when I literally said to myself “I feel normal.” I stepped outside and there was a beautiful monarch butterfly right in front of me. I took that as a good sign.

Thank you for listening and for being here for me.

Love 

Janet