The Flu

After three days of not feeling well, acting crazy, crying, nauseous and exhaustion I finally remembered where my thermometers were.  The morning of the fourth day had found me restless and exhausted and slipping fitfully.  The strangest part of how hot I was.  I am not a competent sweater.  In the right situation I can get a glisten, and there have been times when I have actually worked up a good sweat, and it was wonderful.  I felt like I could do anything.  Silly, maybe, but if your body is not good at something and you actually accomplish it, it can be quite amazing.  The chemo has helped on a few rare occasion for me to sweat, but normally it makes me even more heat tolerant.  So to have spent 3, now starting a 4th day where I was hot, something wasn't quite right.  Of course, I was blaming this on chemo.  I wasn't actually sick, just being weak.  I was being wimpy and it was not pleasant.  I don't like people to see me when I am like this.  I don't like to talk to people or even text because I am crazy and I hate to expose others to my madness.  I usually try and keep a stiff upper lip, or at least that is how I picture myself.  But I was just falling apart and was too sick to even care that Bug was here watching this crazy unfurling of madness, depression, illness and self blame for not being stronger. 

He took my temperature.  He used the one with the duck on it.  I like that one.  Usually taking my temperature takes longer then normal people because I have such a low body temperature that the thermometer gets confused and keeps trying to do whatever it does.  But not Saturday morning.  Saturday morning within 15 seconds beeped 10 times and showed 101 something.  Oh, I was sick.  Not chemo, but sick.  I took an ibuprofen and fell into the sleep of the sick needing rest.  When I awoke I was dripping wet.  The fever had broke and the sheets and my nightgown were soaked through.  I hurried to the living room and showed Bug.  It took him a minute or so to understand that I had sweatted. 

Of course, I was not well right away as I had hoped.  I have taken it easy and not over do it, my normal MO.  I have done a little here, done a little there and pretty much felt worthless. 

I am on the mend, but if I do too much or laugh or talk I start coughing this rattling deep cough.  A cough usually associated with a life time of smoking.  I sound like I could cough up a lung and my heart at any moment.  It is not pretty.  But I am doing better.  The euphoria I experienced realizing I was sick and not just a wimp has faded. Now I try and do things around the house and not push myself back over the edge.  Just being able to move around and not feel like I am about  to be sick is wonderful. 

I still feel so lucky to be here and to get to experience this, all of this.  The feeling of health, the feeling of being sick, the realization that I am stronger then I think, the love and caring of friends and family.  I am so sorry I have scared some of you.  Those who actually have spoken to me.  I know I sound weak and sick.  But I am getting better.  I was only wimpy, no weak.  The chemo isn't at fault for everything in the world.  It is hopefully helping me to live a little longer.  Maybe healthy living a little longer.  One more treatment and then we give it time and then the scan.  Then we will know if all of this was worthwhile.

I guess I am scared still.  I still don't know if this is going to work.  And what does"work" mean?  Will I be "OK"?  Will I have to continue taking chemo that keeps my world a little off kilter?  And what if it doesn't work?  Yes, this adds a little fear into my life.  fear.  I am not used to fear.  I don't work good with fear.  I am trying to live each day as it comes.  I am trying to be the best person I can be in this situation.  I am not very good at that right now.  Seems like such a small thing to do.  Be your best.  But tomorrow will be another new day filled with possibilities.  I will try again tomorrow to do better.