Ah, insomnia, so we meet again.
You know how I always say that I know when I'm starting to feel better because I can no longer sleep? Well, it's back!
Oh insomnia, you had to just remove that small corner of comfort from my life that lies in me snuggling in on my left side against the pillows, clean Kleenex in my bottom hand under my chin, other hand relaxed and limp, legs bent, aching back finally relaxed and secure as I veer into blessed unconsciousness for an hour or two.
Today is day 3 of no-nap time. No afternoon nap, small(ish) evening nap, then awake all night, just laying there listening to Jim breathing and trying to control my medically-induced rumbling stomach. Chicken and dumplings sound soooo good at 1 am.
I became real nap-py before we found the tumors in my brain, in fact there were times when I couldn't stay conscious. Then when Jim got me to the hospital, they pulled me back from the edge with drugs that just threw me sideways. I sort of slept at the point, but it was more than sleep. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Forget TV, forget conversation, my eyes would close and I'd be hearing you, but unable to respond.
They finally sorted my drugs out over the past week and things have started to settle down a bit. The most positive news for me is that, after needing it constantly, I now only take half a Lortab in the morning before radiation to counteract any chance of pain from the treatment. Otherwise, the pain is gone (something I wasn't sure would happen ever again).
Decadron isn't easy to deal with and I have to take something else to stop it eating my stomach apparently. These drugs make me hungry, so I'm like a little piggy, eating away and, well before, sleeping away. Dilantin was making me drunk/loopy/sleepy for a while, but seems to be settling into my body in enough of a dose to keep me awake at night now. Finishing chemo was a blessing, that extra medication was not helping me feel refreshed and energised if you know what I mean. The Decadron helped me to keep eating through this cycle though, which made my life much easier. Usually with chemo, everything tastes funny, but this time everything tasted great, I honestly couldn't eat enough and pizza with sausage, pepperoni and mushrooms (2 slices) is the only breakfast for a Sunday morning while watching Coronation Street.
Hopefully the Temodar will have worked with the radiation to shrink/kill off those microscopic brain lesions allowing us to go in and work on the larger ones with SRS.
I'm writing about this because I want to get it out there just how hard it's been to survive this episode. I think I'm probably making it seem easier than it's really been anyway, but my main point is that on Saturday October 28th (our wedding anniversary), I almost died. I'm serious, it was close and I knew it was - and now, a little over a week later, I'm blogging away with a relatively clear mind. This time last week I could hardly see the computer screen and trying to read or type was so painful I couldn't stand it.
At this point, my thought-processes and decision-making are still somewhat compromised and who knows if they'll ever be back the way they were before. It just doesn't matter, as long as I'm here and able to love and live, I'll be happy to remain in the slow lane for a bit. I'm happy at this time to just enjoy the rainbow, the sun behind the clouds.
There is always hope. I was ready to die and they pulled me back - my husband pulled me back as I was telling him in the hospital "don't let go of me, don't let me die in here". He didn't let go, he got me home and has held onto me almost constantly since, during the harder times of treatment and drugs and nightmares, the times when I'm so drugged that I can feel myself falling and am so scared that I'll just stop breathing. Jim is my constant and I don't know how he does it. I can't imagine what he must be feeling and going through inside his own mind, because all of his love, attention and focus is directed at getting me through this and keeping our bills paid and our kids healthy and whole.
There are heroes in the world, you know. He is mine.
Cancer sucks, we all know that. But in so many ways, I couldn't be more fortunate. Thanksgiving is going to have new meaning for our family this year.
Thankyou everyone for your posts and comments, I can't tell you how much it means to me to read them, this, this ... LOVE is one thing that cancer can't steal from us.
It's really pretty powerless, is cancer.
Oh insomnia, you had to just remove that small corner of comfort from my life that lies in me snuggling in on my left side against the pillows, clean Kleenex in my bottom hand under my chin, other hand relaxed and limp, legs bent, aching back finally relaxed and secure as I veer into blessed unconsciousness for an hour or two.
Today is day 3 of no-nap time. No afternoon nap, small(ish) evening nap, then awake all night, just laying there listening to Jim breathing and trying to control my medically-induced rumbling stomach. Chicken and dumplings sound soooo good at 1 am.
I became real nap-py before we found the tumors in my brain, in fact there were times when I couldn't stay conscious. Then when Jim got me to the hospital, they pulled me back from the edge with drugs that just threw me sideways. I sort of slept at the point, but it was more than sleep. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Forget TV, forget conversation, my eyes would close and I'd be hearing you, but unable to respond.
They finally sorted my drugs out over the past week and things have started to settle down a bit. The most positive news for me is that, after needing it constantly, I now only take half a Lortab in the morning before radiation to counteract any chance of pain from the treatment. Otherwise, the pain is gone (something I wasn't sure would happen ever again).
Decadron isn't easy to deal with and I have to take something else to stop it eating my stomach apparently. These drugs make me hungry, so I'm like a little piggy, eating away and, well before, sleeping away. Dilantin was making me drunk/loopy/sleepy for a while, but seems to be settling into my body in enough of a dose to keep me awake at night now. Finishing chemo was a blessing, that extra medication was not helping me feel refreshed and energised if you know what I mean. The Decadron helped me to keep eating through this cycle though, which made my life much easier. Usually with chemo, everything tastes funny, but this time everything tasted great, I honestly couldn't eat enough and pizza with sausage, pepperoni and mushrooms (2 slices) is the only breakfast for a Sunday morning while watching Coronation Street.
Hopefully the Temodar will have worked with the radiation to shrink/kill off those microscopic brain lesions allowing us to go in and work on the larger ones with SRS.
I'm writing about this because I want to get it out there just how hard it's been to survive this episode. I think I'm probably making it seem easier than it's really been anyway, but my main point is that on Saturday October 28th (our wedding anniversary), I almost died. I'm serious, it was close and I knew it was - and now, a little over a week later, I'm blogging away with a relatively clear mind. This time last week I could hardly see the computer screen and trying to read or type was so painful I couldn't stand it.
At this point, my thought-processes and decision-making are still somewhat compromised and who knows if they'll ever be back the way they were before. It just doesn't matter, as long as I'm here and able to love and live, I'll be happy to remain in the slow lane for a bit. I'm happy at this time to just enjoy the rainbow, the sun behind the clouds.
There is always hope. I was ready to die and they pulled me back - my husband pulled me back as I was telling him in the hospital "don't let go of me, don't let me die in here". He didn't let go, he got me home and has held onto me almost constantly since, during the harder times of treatment and drugs and nightmares, the times when I'm so drugged that I can feel myself falling and am so scared that I'll just stop breathing. Jim is my constant and I don't know how he does it. I can't imagine what he must be feeling and going through inside his own mind, because all of his love, attention and focus is directed at getting me through this and keeping our bills paid and our kids healthy and whole.
There are heroes in the world, you know. He is mine.
Cancer sucks, we all know that. But in so many ways, I couldn't be more fortunate. Thanksgiving is going to have new meaning for our family this year.
Thankyou everyone for your posts and comments, I can't tell you how much it means to me to read them, this, this ... LOVE is one thing that cancer can't steal from us.
It's really pretty powerless, is cancer.
posted by Heather at 9:22 AM
6 Comments:
Our angels on earth. We wonder how they do it and they wonder how we do it.
Sounds like you had a close call with death-- I guess that just goes to show how unpredictable this disease is. You are typing away, letting is into your world, and I am so grateful that you are here to do so.
I'm scared for you. But, I just know, that no matter what, you'll be O-K. You know what I mean? There is so much more.
Dear Heather,
Thank you so much for sharing so much of yourself. I will be sending out thoughts/prayers for you to feel better AND be able to sleep. With all you have been through and continue to go through I wish you didn't have to meet up with insomina again. I want to try to express my admiration for you, your grace, your kindness, your courage, your humour, your fire, your heart. I don't know how to express it so I'll leave it there. Know that you and your family are in my heart and prayers. Love, Carver
She's baaaaack! So good to have the good ole Heather back. I am so sorry you are dealing with brain mets. I just hate it. I really do.
I know what you mean about the insomnia; mind racing, too many thoughts....too scared to go to sleep....not wanting to miss a moment. Then wanting to go sleep, needing it, desperately...but it ... just alludes.
I'm glad to hear your onc is being so aggressive. That's what I would want. Hold nothing back. Bring out the BIG guns. F#@k off Melanoma!... Take THAT, .... and THAT!
Keep holding on to your husband, your kids. You've always been there for them... let them be there for you. NEVER GIVE UP! NEVER GIVE IN! Set your goals. Small at first; then bigger, longer.
You CAN do this. You have many people pulling for you. You have touched so many, with your humor, your 'wisdom'.
You are in my thoughts....
Little did we all know how bad you were when we were all wondering what happened during your absence. It must have been our prayers and thoughts pulling you back also, besides your family. :)
I do believe in angels and miracles. My cousin has pancreatic cancer and we pray for a miracle for her too, she is a mother of 5 and only 40. So you all are in our prayers and can kick butt with each type of cancer.
You are in my thoughts and prayers daily!
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Sounds like you felt mega rough. Awful. Don't know what to say but am glad you're back home watching Corrie and eating pizza!! I didn't know you had Corrie in the States!
I pray you start sleeping better, I hate lying awake at night, it can be a dark dark place (and I'm not talking about the light situation). Keep fighting, feisty one :o)
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