I have long been a person who's found some amount of comfort in the fact that I continue on, no matter what. I'm not self indulgent, I am not comfortable being the focus. I would guess that I'm probably worse than most. I found myself talking to a friend, and trying to explain the shock of discovering that, well...I felt like crap: "Karen," I said, "when I heard the word 'cancer', I knew right away that I was going to beat it. But I never expected to be sick." And as stupid as that sounds, that just about sums it up.
This week has been a shocker. I've been sick. Really, really sick. Two shots of morphine sick. I've never had such a sickening headache in my life. It was worse than a migraine. And for a person who prides herself on her ability to 'suck it up', I found myself saying to the oncologist, "I can't take that again. We have to figure out what to do about that, because I'd rather die than endure that each time." And wonderful as she is, she understood, but explained what I already knew in my heart...I'm so chock full of drugs at this point that finding what drugs are interacting is going to be trial and error. It might happen again. And I can tell that she's really, really sorry about this.
Out of necessity, I've canceled plans for this weekend. Out of necessity, I've given in to my body's demands, and taken naps. Out of necessity, I've put awkward relationships on hold. I don't have time to sort their shit out now. They will simply have to deal with their own dramas. I've not the patience or the energy to do it. Tim thinks it's long overdue, and it made him smile, big. I can't say that I am pampering myself, but I am not feeling quite so guilty when I don't tick everything off my to-do list. I don't feel quite so guilty when I say to someone, "I can't" or say that I am having a discouraging day. I imagine that this is one of many lessons to be learned on the way.