I'm packing up tonight to head to Nashville at the crack of dawn, to see my cousin Tim marry his beloved Katelyn. All the Bakers will be there-- I can't wait. Except, it's going to be about 100 degrees. Alas.
I'm lucky to be able to go. For the past few weeks, it's been a wait-and-see thing. Waiting to see if I'd feel well enough to travel, to "party" in the heat, to be away from my bed. I've still got pain from the stent. It's not as horrible as it was last time, but it's there. I can't go a day without taking a Vicodin at some point. Great! Maybe I'll develop an addiction in addition to everything else. Who's counting? Also, if I eat too much, it really hurts. So I haven't been eating much, and I'm getting really thin, which is not my goal. It's a permanent stent. I wonder, will it be like this forever? Is this my new normal?
The goal of the stent is to open up my bile duct. Once it's open and my bilirubin levels fall, I can resume chemo. (Currently, we're set to resume chemo next Thursday). I've also been doing radiation the past 2 weeks to hit the problem from another angle.
Meanwhile, I'm aware that the rest of the cancer is growing while we deal with this liver problem. So that's something that simmers in my mind 24/7.
My state-of-mind lately is that I'm TIRED of all this. I have been through the ringer. I just want things to change for the better, even if that's only slightly better. Living pain-free would help. Or getting some sort of good news, any kind. My doctor has seemed more "serious" about all this than he used to seem. It's just a lot for a person to think about. I don't seem to have a coping strategy in place, so I'm flailing a bit. The radiation makes me very tired. My house is a mess, and today I took two long naps in the middle of the day!
Tonight, while folding laundry, I turned on the tv. "Sleepless in Seattle" was on. It was terrible timing. The little boy was having a nightmare and screaming out in the night for his mommy, who was now dead. The dad ran up to comfort him, and he asked the boy, "What songs did mommy used to sing to you when you were scared?" Then the boy asked the dad what happened to people after they were dead. I was frantically pushing buttons on the remote, trying to rid myself of this storyline. Sure, it's just a cheesy movie, but it was playing out one of the many scenes I've already imagined happening with my own kids. Cancer sucks. At least with a heart attack, you're gone in a few minutes. With cancer, you get years to ponder your mortality, years to imagine and consider all the horrendous ways your death will hurt the ones you love most. Actually, I suppose, you're lucky if you get years to do it. Actually, I don't know if that makes you lucky or unlucky.
So I'm writing you tonight in a bad mood. There you have it.
I know being with family will lift my spirits.