Hot, I'm hot, and it's 2 in the morning and I'm tired, but I have that wakeful mind thing going on....not helpful. I hate it when I don't even know what I'm thinking *about*; or even what I'm trying *not* to think about. Something just doesn't feel right.
Perhaps it's because I've yet another extra week off chemo - which I know I need for my stomach and rest-of digestive tract to recover - but I'm scared what the next CT scan will show. I've had 2 elongated cycles in a row and I won't know for another 3 weeks if the medication is at the right level yet. And I worry that the disrupted timescale will mean things will no longer be stable. That cancer will be growing again. Because eventually it will be - that's inevitable now - well, not inevitable that it will grow *now; but that it will one day. One day. These are not the sorts of things you are supposed to be waiting for; they're not the 'one day' dreams I should be having. When I wasn't feeling well (at all well) last weekend (very icky) my mind immediately leapt about 4 million miles from where I was - thinking that the medication dosage would have to be decreased again already - to thinking that The Precious Oncologist would declare that Xeloda was no longer working and there were no other options and I was going to start the dying process. Palliative care next step. And my imagination was running wild (my imagination should seriously be lopped off) - trying to decide what music to have playing at my funeral; would I be buried or cremated? And if I was cremated then where would I like my ashes? And thinking of the people who would be there and how they would feel and about how would the Dear Other cope. And goodness me, I felt Very Sad and Cried (for a change). The wee small hours in combination with bathroom and not knowing if you're going to be sick, have diarrhoea, or both - plus heartburn and gas - these things are really Not A Good Combination and cause mental anguish. I feel better now - but, yet again, I am amazed by where my head goes when I'm not feeling well. I feel now like that can't possibly have been my head and my mental processes - and that is strange.
I'd forgotten, a bit, quite how simply dreadful it is to feel continuously nauseous. That feeling when you start to wish you'd just be sick and then it would be over and you could start feeling better - or feeling something other than nauseous anyway. I'd forgotten the fact that it eats away at your self-control; at the holding-it-together part of you. I didn't feel like I handled it as well as last time (2005 time, I mean) - I think that was because last time I could keep telling myself that I only had to go through it eight times (four times for the nausea-inducing chemo anyway) but now, now there is no set end. It could be many, many, many times. And it's even more miserable to have to hope that it will be many, many, many times.
Sorry, back to Boring. Dull and repetitive. I *want* to be saying other things. I *want* to have something more interesting to say. But, I was told that 'I want never gets'. And, in true-child fashion, I can only respond 'that's not fair!' Blah, blah, blah. Perhaps that's what my blogposts will be henceforth: I shall simply type [Blah, blah, blah] and you can just move on to the next blog in your blogroll.