What made this week challenging?

On Monday, my neuro-oncologist said I should get a port that week.  Soon.  Like, soon.  It's the thing that installs a whole track of stuff into my body so that when they need to pump chemo stuff into me, it's easy for them and not painful for me.  He wants that stuff in, before the tumor takes away any more of my brain.

Tuesday I had so much pain in my head and body that I felt terrible.  I kept taking Advil, and it only took the edge off.  I was afraid that I was going to have a migraine.  I was afraid that this was a sign of the tumor growing fast, being big enough to be hurting me.

Between Tuesday and Wednesday, I was vomiting.

A very serious comment I've written to one of my doctor.
Very shortly after, Brian got in touch with the doctor,
who said that I'm a step away from going to the ER.
Ultimately, I didn't have to do that.

Then on Wednesday I was so tired that sitting up was too much--so I lay in bed.  And slept hard.  In the moments when I woke up I kept thinking I could do something, and instantly I'd become nauseated.  So I stayed in bed for 12 hours, got up for four hours, and then was out again.  I couldn't really be afraid because I couldn't function that day.  I wrote a few emails, and they were completely incoherent.

Thursday I felt better, which is good because my neuro-oncologist wanted me to get my port ASAP.  Since I hadn't been in the ER, then it was time to stick some stuff into my body.  My neuro-oncologist (can I just call him Scott?) wants them to plug me up as quickly as possible.  So I went through that four-hour process (thank you, Claire!).  Nothing to eat or drink after midnight, for a port thing at 3:00pm.  I skipped that and did both.

Friday I felt coherent, but my port hurt while everything was healing itself.  Couldn't really use my arm at all (not supposed to).  Loads of Advil.  Then I was feeling much, much better.  I was (and am) grateful for this product that might help.

Now it's Saturday.  I made coffee cake, then I was exhausted and needed to sleep until 10:30.  But when Conseula and Claire arrived for our SNWF (Super Ninja Writing Force), everything was great!   They saw where I live.  They sat at the kitchen table and we analyzed.  I got a glimpse of this house that will welcome my friends.  After, I wrote them notes about how much it meant to have them at the house, recognizing how much they mean to me, wanting this to be a house that will welcome my friends.

It's an odd week.  Will I keep feeling this up and down, this unpredictablilty?  How am I going to teach?  (Let's note that I haven't written the syllabus yet--but I will!)  Will my mind, my brain, allow me to write, to think?  You know, theoretically I'm writing a book--3/4 of the way through.  Will I be able to finish it?

And of course, when I wrote that last sentence, I thought it the way many of you don't:  Will I be able to finish it before I die?

An odd day.  An odd 16 days.

I'll probably go to sleep again for a nap.