I love pain, if I wasn't in pain I would think I was dead. If you can think, 'Am I dead?', can you be? Who among us over 50, 45 even, doesn't wake with some pain?
I am at the low point of the chemo, blood counts are in the toilet, I have to wear the mask outside the house so I am not going out until this afternoon's doctor visit. There I will get another shot of neupogen, to promote blood growth, and a blood test. I have been in some state of advancing mucositis since the chemo slam last week, and this morning my tongue has joined my cheek walls in hailing the armies of all wars as they march through my mouth and take up positions on my lips. They never get much chance in war to trim their toenails.
Anemia is also present, and I bet could bleed pretty good if need be. So I am peachy, love waking up every day knowing it should get better, or not. I guess it's just the waking that surprises me. Thanks for all the blog support, and I don't know if there is a limit, Pat. Does each letter on the screen add to the weight of the earth?
I am in a very discombobulated state. My in-laws and neighbor had an opportunity to move my stuff from my bachelor pad this past weekend, so they did, and I really appreciate the time and effort they made. Given my current state I don't know how I would have gotten it done.
Now I am looking at this pile of stuff in my garage that needs a place, and all the places are taken. I get tired just thinking about it. It all used to fit in here, but life hates empty space.
This whole situation is stressful for Dana, working and taking care of me and worrying about me, so my brother Frank drove out from New Mexico to help out, what a guy. He cleaned out the jammed up gutter, and did dishes, and all kinds of other useful chores. He took Woody to the vet today for some work, and is out getting tires on my car right now. Tomorrow we (he) will get Mike's Honda in to check an exhaust system trouble light.
I kind of wish my body would work like all the mechanical systems around me. I complain that I fix one thing and another breaks, but at least I am at just one thing not working. With my body, they just pile on. That's all I have.
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ok, so that is more than we knew--you are home and you have help, good to know, good to know. reason garage is separate from house is so you don't have to see it. that's all I have.
ReplyDeletepat
What no poem? John, where's the poem?
ReplyDeleteEvery day the armies gather steam,
to fight the fight of the enemy down stream.
As the general tries to focus on the task at hand,
his mind wonders to a different land.
The tires, the exhaust and all those things
Are also taking up space inside his brain
So he leaves the blog alone this time
with no poem ... not a single rhyme
John, John, John,
ReplyDeleteYou may have no idea how much of a relief and pleasure it is for us to see your post. Knowing it’s your down day today and for us to see that you have the fortitude to get on the computer and give us an update. I mean, shit Man, you are truly an amazing specimen. You’re the test tube of human super power. I am speechless and VERY, VERY impressed.
We Love You Buddy.
Hang in there; keep a goin.
Mac
You are very articulate for someone who has a discombobulated chemo brain. There is hope! I hate chemo almost as much as I hate cancer. I agree with Pat - the pile in the garage should be off limits. Pretend it does not exist! It is just stuff. Got to love that brother of yours. May the chemo low pass and a poem emerge on your next post.
ReplyDeleteWhat did one snowman say to the other snowman?............................................................................................Do you smell carrots? I hope you know how much you are loved. My heart is with you. Earl
ReplyDelete