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.
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.