A loss of perspective

I have lost my perspective on a lot of things.  Oh, and I am cranky.  A lot.  My friend William told me that I am simply in a funk, and so is his wife.  He says it is simply the cancer and the treatments.  I think the time of year is also helping, or hurting, or however that should be put.  His wife had breast cancer.  They fixed that, now she has ovarian cancer.  And they just found out that their son's bone cancer that originally showed up on his foot, is back.  William looked worn out.  I can't even begin to know how his wife could handle this.  I guess that might be another reason she is in a funk.


That does not make me feel any better.  I just feel weaker.  Look at all she is handling, she deserves to be in a funk.  What excuse do I have?  


My perspective is so off that when I look in a mirror or put on my clothes I see a fat woman.  Really, fat, like hundreds of pounds.  I weigh 128.  That is not hundreds of pounds.  So I put the scale in front of the mirror and I stand on the scale and look in the mirror and try and get my perspective back.  So far it might be helping a little, but I still feel fat.

I feel like a failure right now.  Like I can't do anything right.  Everyone says I sound great on the phone.  Really, everyone.  They say, you sound great.  At work, they come by and tell me how cute my hair is and how good my skin looks.  I think my skin looks good because I am fat.  And my hair doesn't seem to be growing, but that is OK, because of that curly cue thing in the front.  I have started imagining it is going to turn into a horn.  Rhinoceroses horns are made out of hair.  I wonder what unicorn horns would be made of?  Nail material like cattle or hair like a rhino.  I don't want a horn sticking out of the front of my head.  I think I may have to keep my hair very short so I do not to worry about the horn.


I am really in a funk.  I have missed appointments.  I have confused appointments.  I don't think I am taking that many drugs.  I take a melatonin, an antihistamine and an Ativan at bed.  The ativan is an anti-anxiety drug.  It keeps me from waking up at 2 in the morning worrying.  I never thought of my self as a worrier.  A planner.  Yes, but as soon as I had the plan, no worries.  


I can take the ativan every 6 hours.  So should I take them more often.  I mean they give me a hundred every month.  I take one a night.  I think I will start paying closer attention to what is going on to see if maybe I should follow the dosage a little closer.  It makes me tired.  It also affects my alertness.  I don't need anymore help not being alert.  


Yes, I guess I am in a funk.


I had my PETscan on Thursday.  Not Wednesday.  Thursday.  sigh.  I drove myself there because they said there was no reason I shouldn't be able to drive home by myself.  I had already taken Ms Moon's day to drive me there on Wednesday.  My appointment was Thursday.  Not Wednesday.  sigh.


So I got to the hospital a little early, they got me right in.  They fill out lots of paperwork and then they put you in a recliner in a dark area with no stimulus.  They hook up an IV.  They can't use my port because it contaminates the port with radioactivity, and it does not go away.  I said maybe I could just use it as a night light.  They did not find that funny.  So they hook you up to a fluid bag and then the head of radiology comes in and injects the radioisotopes.  Pretty cool huh?  Then you sit in your quiet dark space and close your eyes and wait.  About an hour later they come and get you, have you empty your bladder and then lay down on the moving table and they perform the scan.  It takes less then 30 minutes.  Then they advise you to go home and limit contact with people.  It is best to avoid children for 48 hours.  No hugging or holding.  I stopped at Publix to get some fruit and avoided being close to anyone.  But this one woman insisted on talking to me, and then walking up and rubbing my back.  I had to step back to keep her from hugging me.  I didn't start this contact, she did, and for whatever reason insisted on physical contact from all people.  Me.  I feel like an old fashioned micro wave at the convenient stores with the warning to people with pace makers.  I am a danger to others.  


I came home and I know I have to drink a lot of water.  And I think I am drinking a lot of water.  But my perspective was off.  I didn't drink enough water because when I went to bed last night, I had a killer headache.  A radiation headache.  I lay in bed after taking my drugs, and one for pain and could imagine all the brain cells I was cooking by not having drank enough water.  The screaming in my head was the dying braincells.  I kept getting up and drinking more water.  I kept getting up to get rid of the water I was drinking, which gave me another excuse to drink some more water.  I don't think I killed off too many brain cells.  At least not the strong healthy brain cells.  Just the weak ones.  I hoped it would help my perspective today.  But I don't think so.


I am going to have to re-think how many people come and visit.  Part of all of this is having company every other weekend.  Everyone comes planning on helping me, but I am too hard headed.  I am too programed to what a proper hostess should do.  These are my friends.  They don't expect me to do what I do.  I am programed


That is part of my funk.  I like my regiments, my programed life.  Get up at 6:00 am, feed the animals, shower, brush my teeth, moisturize, get dressed, eat breakfast, drive to work.  Work, come home.  I like these patterns.  And lately there does not feel like there are any patterns.  Chemo keeps switching as my body recovers.  And I am exhausted, so no surprise when they have to reschedule.  Tests, work, company, tired.  


So today I stayed at work a little later to try and get things wrapped up.  I will only be working one day next week, and I have a lot to do.  I know it is just work.  But it is what I have focused on for 25 years.  It has been a big part of my patterns.  Patterns I like.  I will gladly give them up for my retirement, but right now, I am still employed.  I am still obligated, in my mind, to do the best job I can.  it gives me something to focus on.  I know I need to focus on my health.  But sometimes you just need a distraction.  I wore myself out though.  I don't understand.  I am not sick.  Yes, I have cancer, but that is not sick.  How can everything be so hard.  How come I can't get my stamina back.  Oh yeah, chemo.


And I have so many things half completed.  My retirement, my will, my life.  Did I mention that I am exhausted.  I don't mean to complain, as much as just comment on what is going on.  Why it is hard to talk on the phone to people.  Why it is hard to talk to people about visits.  But Susan did mention that this summer that she, Linda and I could get together in Philadelphia.  Linda has a sister with a house there.  Susan and I have never been to Philadelphia.  I want to do that.  I guess I need to rest so I can do that.  See?!?!?!  I don't want to miss anything, to give up, to loose out.  I want to see my friends, and talk to them on the phone.  I am just tired right now.  I am tired because of the chemo.  It is not always going to be like this.  I hope.  


It is Friday.  I can sleep late tomorrow.  I can rest for the next two days.  Maybe I can get outside and sit on the ground and pull weeds.  It is going to be warm tomorrow.  Maybe that is what I need to get my perspective back.  dirt under my nails.  dirt on my arms and legs.  A pile of weeds to throw in the compost pile.  Throw out the old dead weeds and turn them into rich dark, life giving compost.  Maybe that is exactly what I need.