Friday, May 1, 2009

Temporarily Offline

Day 2 of my treatment starts off bright and productive. I read Kafka on the Shore, answer emails, receive phone calls, and peruse the LLS Forums. I do 10 laps around the unit, shower and devour my breakfast. It could be like any other day, but at noon the pre-meds arrive along with an unappetizing lunch. Two hours of ara-c followed by a short break and then some more pre-meds, this time a steroid, ending with an hour infusion of clofarabine. This flattens me, and although my brother and my son are in the room with me, I am alone and feeling the effects of the toxins. I drift in and out, and finally ask for some iv ativan.

Everything seems difficult to do. Just getting into the bathroom requires untangling of wires and jockeying the plugged-in pole hanging with meds into a small space. I manage. Between my dance pole, my laptop with dial-up cord and my cell phone plug, wires snake everywhere and follow along behind me as I go through the motions.

I could be at home having dinner with my family, just like any other night. But I'm here in this sick room while life continues without me. How did this happen?


Daria said...

Yes that is a good question ... how did this happen?

I ask that myself.

Ann said...

Life isn't continuing without you. You're a big part of mine and I think of you daily.

I can't tell you the number of times I almost yanked out my PICC or CVC because of that damn pole and all of those tubes.

Hang in there. You will be out before too long.

Ronni Gordon said...

I feel like I could have written that post myself. I often stare at the wall and ask how did this happen? There aren't going to be any good answers so we need to keep reminding ourselves to leave it alone, but it's hard. And yes it feels like life is passing you by, but of course it's not really. Hang in there and remember, like you reminded me, one step at a time! You''re gonna beat this thing!

Linda said...

I too could also have written that, PJ. Hard as it is, try keep positive when you're feeling just plain awful. There is no such thing as false hope - there can't be as we're all still here.