I lay in bed this morning waiting, waiting as I always do for the realisation to hit me that I do have cancer. Strange, but every morning I have about 10 seconds of innocence, of freedom and then wham! The sledgehammer hits me; I have a life threatening disease which is growing insidiously, quietly and stealthily inside me. Then, casting aside such cheery thoughts, I wait for my stomach to catch up with my mind. Today, though, something was missing..I didn't feel sick; not a retch, not a gasp, not even a tightening of the muscles. Gingerly, very gingerly, I got up, and went downstairs. Still, nothing... You have no idea how odd this is...Every third day after chemo SO FAR, I have been accosted by a splitting headache, my stomach has churned like the ocean in a storm and this morning? Nothing...nothing at all...
I have to say though that I am still creeping around the house almost afraid to get up properly in case the demon in charge of my stomach wakes up and starts tossing things around like cookies...*grin*
Of course, not everything is perfect. The nurses are coming in half an hour to give me my injections to raise my blood count. Now the decisions become stomach or arm? Strange how the ill can become reduced to dealing with such fundamentally trivial decisions. Sickness is a great leveller, much like poverty or stress.. Even captains of industry, leaders of countries are lowered by them. Perhaps, then, it is how we react in the face of these things that makes us great, not what we did before. It is hard, indeed, to conquer the world when well, but when ill? How much more bravery is in getting up when feeling sick, asserting one's point of view when one's whole body is in revolt? All credit then to people like Lance Armstrong who manage to come back and defeat the well and able bodied, when I can't even decide between stomach and arm....
Minerva
7 comments:
I'm glad you're not ill, Minerva. That is great news. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for you today.
Amazing how an illness makes you think more about your body parts than ever before. "Arm or stomach?" I would choose Arm, but only because my stomach is so flabby that if I were to have an injection I doubt they'd be able to retrieve the needle...and the nurse's from those trenches of mine.
I am SO happy I found your diary (by chance!) some time ago. I really enjoy coming to read your thoughts everyday.
As for you not being sick, WOO! I think that sums it up right? Now go knock on wood before you jinx yourself. [I would offer my head as sufficient wood to knock on but I think we live too far apart.]
*crosses fingers, toes and every available and suitably flexible body part* xx
I went with 'stomach' every time and I quickly stopped feeling it all together. I also found my chemos got easier too. The last one is a breeze! Almost there.
Oh i would have to believe that Lance had those days too. You can be assured he didn't just wake up the day after discovering he had cancer and beat it so he could resume training. You'll get there too and I pity the fool who decides to stand in your way once you're on the move again.
I'm just curious: have you read Susan Sontag's Illness as Metaphor? I've only read bits and pieces, and I haven't your perspective of having cancer, as far as I know, but it seems particularly germane to your idea of illness being a "great leveller."
kisses,
cg
(ps. totally unrelatedly, my "word verification" for this comment is "cgbitez." I'm hoping blogger isn't speaking to me. Again.)
i'm here from michele's today but i'll be back on my own. you are an inspiration.
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