Today I was off from work and had a completely non-productive day. Completely. I did absolutely nothing. Not reading. No arts and crafts. Not even watching movies or napping. I kinda just sat around and nibbled on stuff. And you know what? I think I really needed that. It was kind of like rebooting my brain. It's now 9:30 at night, and for the first time in months, I am starting to come back to me.
One of the things that is different is the new medication. Yep... I think we hit on the correct combination for the time being. Yesterday I went to work at 7am and worked until 8:30pm. That is the longest day I have worked and remained productive the whole day in ages. I came home tired, but not bone weary, and while I hurt, it wasn't the same constant dragging me into the grave hurt I have dealt with for months. I looked in the mirror and I have color in my cheeks that is not the bright red of me gritting my teeth, but the slightly rosy glow that I used to have all the time. Yes, I still have some bags under my eyes, but give me a couple of weeks of normal sleep and I may just start to look human again.
It was nice today to not be constantly thinking about how I felt. In fact, it was nice to not think anything much at all. But the great brain is starting to gear up again, and for the last little bit I have actually been feeling the old inquisitiveness sneaking back in. My brain actually had some thoughts about sympathy and empathy and how they relate to me and how I relate them to the world. Do you have any idea how much I have missed those types of thoughts? My whole life I have spent with a mind that constantly mulls things over, picks apart thoughts, feelings and actions and when the Big C started taking that from me, I think that is when I started to feel most betrayed by my body. I mean, that type of thought process is central to who I am as a person, and to have my mind spending all its time thinking trivial things like "what Time is it? Can I take a pill yet?" was, for me, like not actually living. (on the whole sympathy/empathy thing... I could write a whole lot about that, but suffice it to say, my perspectives are changing).
So... just a quick note to say that I may actually have more to say in the future, and I am excited by that prospect!
One of the things that is different is the new medication. Yep... I think we hit on the correct combination for the time being. Yesterday I went to work at 7am and worked until 8:30pm. That is the longest day I have worked and remained productive the whole day in ages. I came home tired, but not bone weary, and while I hurt, it wasn't the same constant dragging me into the grave hurt I have dealt with for months. I looked in the mirror and I have color in my cheeks that is not the bright red of me gritting my teeth, but the slightly rosy glow that I used to have all the time. Yes, I still have some bags under my eyes, but give me a couple of weeks of normal sleep and I may just start to look human again.
It was nice today to not be constantly thinking about how I felt. In fact, it was nice to not think anything much at all. But the great brain is starting to gear up again, and for the last little bit I have actually been feeling the old inquisitiveness sneaking back in. My brain actually had some thoughts about sympathy and empathy and how they relate to me and how I relate them to the world. Do you have any idea how much I have missed those types of thoughts? My whole life I have spent with a mind that constantly mulls things over, picks apart thoughts, feelings and actions and when the Big C started taking that from me, I think that is when I started to feel most betrayed by my body. I mean, that type of thought process is central to who I am as a person, and to have my mind spending all its time thinking trivial things like "what Time is it? Can I take a pill yet?" was, for me, like not actually living. (on the whole sympathy/empathy thing... I could write a whole lot about that, but suffice it to say, my perspectives are changing).
So... just a quick note to say that I may actually have more to say in the future, and I am excited by that prospect!
Hi! It's been awhile and I miss your posts. Please update if you are able. Wishing you well, Scooze.
ReplyDeleteMy dear sweet friend, Dawyn, left this worldly plane at 1 a.m. May 4th. She fought the good fight, and even continued going to work up until the night before she passed. She never gave up, but the powers that be had other plans for her. She has left a hole than none will soon fill, not only in the hearts of those who knew her personally, but to all those lucky enough to cross her path and be caught in her light. I can not begin to tell you how much I miss my friend.
ReplyDeleteShe kept saying that she had written many more blogs but that she just hadn't posted them. We have not been able to find them. If we do, and I find the strength, I will post them here for her. It was not long after this final post here that things began to go south. The scans showed mets in her lung, heart and bones. She was on one Chemo after another even though they were only "palative" treatments. She became so sick at Christmas that we were sure she wasn't going to see mid- January, but she decided she was not going anywhere and rallied with all she had. Every day from then until May 4th, we were sure it would be any day. And somehow those 4 months flew by. She worked full time the whole time, never did take her 5 weeks of vacation she had built up, and was still talking about plans for September the week before. It was excruciating to watch. We just wanted her to take a break. But for Dawyn, to stop working meant to stop living, and so she worked.
It is a blessing that she is at rest finally, free of pain, and disease, her body whole again, traveling to all the magnificent places she wanted to see and those she could not even imagine, and always watching over us, not unlike she did when she was here with us. There is no band-aid large enough for our wounds left behind, but, they say time heals. However, the scar will be large. Hopefully, the lessons she taught us will not be for naught. There is certainly one lesson I am having a hard time holding on to. When I asked her, after she was diagnosed, had a double mastectomy, and was going through Chemo, how in the world she still had a smile on her face and a bounce in her step, she said, "Easy. I just wake up every morning knowing that something wonderful is going to happen today." Yeh .... that one's gonna take some practice.
~Her friend Marie
Thank you for the update. I'm sorry for your loss, and for the loss of her writing.
ReplyDelete