Post-cancer blues

I always figured that I'd have plenty to occupy myself with when I retired. Write more, knit more, embroider again, maybe learn an instrument and take up painting. I hoped I'd have enough money to travel a little. Never in my wildest dreams did I guess I'd be in too much pain to do any of that. And the idea that I would lose such a basic component of life as eating never crossed my mind. But here I am.

Today I have an appointment at the pain management clinic to see if something can be done. I take way to many pain killers, and some are opioids. Those work well for a while, but carry risks. And they stop working. I live my days from dose to dose, crying in pain until they kick in, then feeling groggy and not all there when they do. My writing has ground to a standstill. I distract myself with too much television and not enough action. I've even fallen asleep in front of the TV, sitting up even. I never have done that. I've gotten so weak that a shower forces me to rest for a couple hours.

Now I have time to cook, but no reason to. I have time to putter around the house, but no strength to do it with. I have time to get enough sleep, but can't stay asleep long.

Bedtime is incredibly frustrating. I start going to bed at 10, after taking a dose each of 2 painkillers. Hope springs eternal, so I get into bed and try for an hour to get comfortable. Then I give up, take 2 more painkillers, and sit up with a TV program to distract myself until they kick in. When I get back into bed, this time I can get comfortable enough to sleep. For an hour or two, then I wake up and have to try to get comfortable again. First is the pain in my neck and shoulder. Then I have to work on suctioning the mucus from my throat, which sets off having to blow my nose for a good quarter of an hour. Then the dry-throat cough starts, and I have to get up and rinse my throat with water, which I partially choke on, and suction again. After that I can usually fall asleep, by midnight most nights. I can't just roll over in my sleep. Changing positions requires that I wake up, and usually have to suction, cough, and blow some more.

My dreams have even changed. I don't know if that's from the meds or something else. Gone are the adventure dreams in full color. Now I dream in murky dull almost-gray, and the content is boring. Most of the time now I don't even remember them.

The surgery was May 31. The rehab center made a big difference, and I was mending nicely. Then came the radiation and chemo, and I'm a damn basket case. No strength, no stamina, brain not working very well, and feeling hopeless to get any better. I'm fighting to accept the new normal, but I can't get my feet under me. I feel like I've lost everything that made my life pleasant.

All I can do is hold on and hope things improve. Winston Churchill (I believe) said "When you're going through hell, keep going." Because of course if you don't, then you'll stay in hell. There's no other choice, but damn it's hard.