Cancer Journal 29, 2019

I should have listened to the assertions that I would feel increasingly bad as my chemo treatments went along. Instead, I hoped I would be the exception to the rule. I’m not. Ever since last Monday, a week and four days ago, I’ve bounced between feeling decent and feeling completely worn out. Today is, I think, the worst yet. I spent almost all day, virtually comatose, in my recliner. Finally, just before 5:00 p.m., I took a shower. That was after I spoke to my “nurse navigator.” I explained how tired I feel and how excruciating my experience was this morning when I woke up and took my morning medications. I honestly thought I might pass out from the pain in my upper chest/esophagus. Fortunately, it subsided quickly, though an uncomfortable level of pain remained most of the day. My oncologist prescribed something (two things, actually), again, to address acid reflux. I’m beginning to wonder whether she has a clue. As was the case the last time she prescribed something, the pharmacy automated phone alert system called shortly thereafter, explaining that the pharmacy was attempting to contact the “prescriber” because something apparently is amiss with the prescription.

Despite feeling approximately like crap, I am a very tiny bit better than I was earlier. But I still feel rotten. And tired. I didn’t sleep well last night and, after a day in the recliner, I doubt I will tonight. Ach!

The nurse navigator recommended that I avoid very hot and very cold foods, spicy foods, foods with texture, and a few others. She suggested I might enjoy chicken broth or beef broth. And I might. I’m getting hungry. I did eat a bowl of ice cream just before my shower, but the cold hurt my esophagus. Ach! Again.

The phone rang about eight times today. Six times scammers were behind the calls. Twice were legitimate “business” calls. No one else. That’s pretty typical. We could both die and go undiscovered for days. It could be weeks. We are, in the true sense of the words, hermits, recluses, loners, isolates, lonely souls.

I am in an especially poor mood this afternoon. I’m angry at the world, but I don’t quite know why. Maybe I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I don’t think that’s it. I’m just feeling surly and unhappy and I don’t feel that I can count on hope on the horizon. I am sure that will pass. It always does.

Well, I just saw five large deer walk past my window. They went up the slope next to my house, crossed the street, and wandered into the woods beyond. That improved my mood by a fraction.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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2 Responses to Cancer Journal 29, 2019

  1. John Swinburn says:

    Thanks, Trish. I just may give that a shot.

  2. Trisha says:

    Just and idea, John, when it comes to your pain in swallowing and your esophagus, when I had a tonsillectomy at 21 ice cream, jello, or anything for that matter was out of the question to try. My throat was so swollen, and full of scabs. The only thing that went down was room temperature peach nectar. The temperature was important, and the thickness of the nectar felt good going down. Did that for two weeks, before I could move on to anything solid or was hot to cold. Maybe you could try it… might work for you?

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