Sittin On A Porch

Sittin On A Porch
Our little back porch

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Still hanging in there

Sunday, August 11 I begged Bug to take me to the emergency room.  I could not pee, I could not poop, I was literally overwhelmed with pain.  I was dramatic.  They were wonderful there, took me, asked me over and over to describe what was happening.  I always try by reminding them I am an entomologist, and know nothing about soft body creatures.  I would then say it felt like someone had just jumped up and kicked me as hard as possible in both of my kidneys.  My liver had been sucker punched up at it at least a dozen times.  That all parts of my digestive system burned and ached at the same time.  My back hurt.  All of my joints are red, swollen and hot and can not hold my body weight.  I feel like I am going septic and if I knew what gang green smelled like that I would probably be a big clue as to what was happening, oh, and I might be going into shock from the sheer force of pain.  They fortunately did not ignore me, but at the same point we all knew that what I felt was happening probably wasn't quite accurate.  All the things were done, stuff collected.  When they took my blood pressure it usually brought me out of wherever I was bolt up right and completely over the top over whelmed.  They took the cuff down one, then they set a lower pressure, but it was a surprise moment of panic and pain each time.  They shot me up with Dilaudid.  My pain was 10, 8, 7.  I could live with 7 and I would disappear in the mists of that drug.  I see how it could be a favorite.  It is too much for me.  I enjoy the moments of pain that are somehow pain free in that they don't matter.  But not as something to replace life with. 

I woke up in a room, mustard colored walls, but with a huge window looking out where the clouds and the trees meet.  There were nice people talking to me and I was there for three days and they did get everything to clear and work appropriately again and sent me home to rest up for my next Doctor appointment on Monday.  I remember a tiara and wand and purple boa and then getting to sleep in my own bed. 

My joints are still sore and my bones and muscles aren't sure about how to hold me up.  But with a walker and trying things differently we are getting it done.  Bug has worked to a point that his back is completely out.  He keeps going, but I wish we could enjoy a little peace and less struggles.

But now as I manage these new drugs the pain is disappearing from my memory and my new memories are learning to live on the other side of chemo.

Funny things, my numbers looked great.  I mean everything was improving, but not getting out of bed for weeks on end, not having a movement for 10 days, all the things that are falling apart because of the whole have gone too far.  Dr. May understand completely.  She gave me the facts, told me all that we know and agreed that for me, it was time.  She would have willingly given me another treatment.  But I just couldn't.  I felt like I was fighting myself when I was not fighting at all, and was getting whopped big time.  The body can take what the body can take.  Some people heal themselves, others choose to be like a field.  The species that adapts the quickest will survive.  Unfortunately the species that do not adapt are pushed out.  It is how nature balances itself.  I am finally letting the balance begin.  Understanding that it will take my life. 

But now I will have the help and access to care to manage the rest of this journey as peacefully as possible. 
I am searching for peace
and I can feel it coming.


  1. I am so sorry, but I know that you want peace. I get it. I am sending good energy your way.

  2. Peace. And so much love. See you tomorrow.

  3. I am glad that you are out of that terrible pain. As I have enjoyed your posts over the last many months, I admire you so much. I wish you peace.


  4. I am thinking of you. I wish you so much peace, and hate so much that you are in such pain.

  5. Seeing you today was such a joy. I'll get the list together either tonight or in the morning. In the meantime, tell Bug to just call me if he needs anything. I have never been in a room with so much love that you could literally feel it. Jack is so happy that you are looking forward to his visit.
    Love you,

  6. Wishing you that peace. And no pain.

  7. You have our love and thoughts every step of the way.

  8. You do not know me but I came over from Ms. Moon's blog. I am sorry your treatment did not get your miracle with the treatment.

    I believe love can stretch across miles and to people we have never met. So, I am sending love to you and wishing your peace comes to you soon.


  9. Thinking of you. And of your husband, friends, and animals.

  10. Thank you for your kind advice when my boyfriend Dan was suffering, Kathleen. It meant a lot to both of us.
    I wish you peace. I wish you joy and love.

  11. Also here from Mary Moon's blog.
    Cancer sucks.
    Thankfully, the love of friends and family and the joy they can bring even the darkest days, is something cancer cannot touch. May your loved ones surround you, lift your spirits, and nourish your soul. That's the part if you that cancer can never take.

  12. This is one of the most powerful pieces of writing about illness and pain and what it means to be human that I've ever read. Kathleen, I wish you peace and ease and continued strength and courage. I send you love.