Not So Easy Peasy

Apparently Day 8 came out from behind the bush swinging a 2x4 right into the middle of my head, back, legs and every bone I have.

Despite a fairly good morning…  Wait.  That’s not so right.  Woke up at 3:00 am and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Despite a nice drive in to the doctors…  Wait.  That’s not right.  It was 6:30 am on the way to Kirkland in rush hour traffic.

Despite my lower blood pressure…  Wait.  That’s not right.  I’m not even telling my numbers (I used to have great numbers, people, so great).

Despite the lidocaned port poke for the blood draw and subsequent pain free flush…  Wait.  That’s not right.  It burned and I announced it.  Luckily.  Apparently you can miss when you aim the needle at the port.  Slid right off the side and that wasn’t bright red blood coming out.

Round Two.  Second poke.  You know, when they put the orange IV thingy in, they have to really shove that bad boy in.  Something about the “run flat” kind of rubber that the needle goes into.  Not painful, but oddly, well, odd.  And you sit there in your unhappy place wondering when it’s going to hurt. 

Which makes your blood pressure go up.

We got the blood draw, ducked the hydration infusion, got good white blood count numbers (1500, yeah!), talked (A LOT) about my back and face rash and my swollen tongue.  That one has us going in circles.  Drink burning hot coffee or tea, suck on a box of cardboard and then go talk at an assembly.  THAT’S what that’s like.  So far only salt water has made it feel better temporarily.  There’s also a mouth wash I can use.  So, another prescription. 

Off to the Granix/Grouchy shot in infusion.  Poke.  Burn.  Can we please be done with these?

Ten minutes to make it to the follow up surgeon.  Port scars and node scars look good.  Range of motion is good (so I wasn’t supposed to do yoga four days after the surgery?  Hmm, well.), but “here’s a physical therapist to see two days a week for six weeks.”

Because I love it when cancer is the center of my life.  /sarcasm

Then off to school knowing that at 4:00 I will be horizontal on the couch.

And I was until 5:50.

When I went into back labor.  Seriously.  Forgot about that from 19 years ago, but it’s exactly what it felt like.  I could NOT get comfortable.  Bone aches, muscle aches.  Which brought on nausea.  And anxiety.  And exhaustion but can’t fall asleep.  And anything else mixed into this chemo reaction cocktail we’ve got going.  Topped with an olive.

I told Jeff at one point that apparently Day 8 is going to be my worst day.  I think it shocked the crap out of us because we both thought I was doing so well and this is handle-able.  Not cake, but not utter misery.  Day 8 proved I’m not in charge.  This cancer you’re-not-in-charge attitude really has GOT to change.  On cancer’s end.  Because.  Well, because I’m the leader…

Somehow, with the advent of sleepytime tea and utter exhaustion, I finally fell asleep thinking if this is Chemo, we can just be done.

I got a good seven hours sleep so we shall see how this day goes.  I know it’s because I got all braggy and was announcing (oddly enough, with glee) that I would be able to make it to work the rest of this week and all next week.  Got 2x4’d in the middle of my back.

I’m sure there’s a prescription for it.