I haven’t taken my mass of morning pills yet today. Some days, the idea of swallowing a handful of pills and tablets is beyond offensive. It is an affront to my humanity. Evidence that I am unable to survive on my own, without the crucial assistance of drugs to keep my heart beating, my lungs pumping, and my guts gurgling. I want to simply refuse the pharmaceuticals and see where that takes me. I doubt I would wither and die in the near-term. In fact, I might start feeling better from the outset. Do I have the grit to give it a try? Not yet. Argh!
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Mendocino, California. I want to go back for a lengthy visit…a week or two, maybe more. But getting the full enjoyment out of the experience of Mendocino and environs requires one to feel energetic. And it requires overcoming any and all aches, pains, attitudes, concerns, and other intrusive annoyances. At the moment, I do not feel capable of overcoming any of it. I want to, nonetheless. I want the ugly invasions of bad attitudes and worse cancer cells to stop, immediately. I would be satisfied, I suppose, to be anesthetized for a few weeks of luxurious nothingness.
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My cell phone, hidden deep in the pockets and folds of a goose-down vest, rang until it gave up. A few minutes later, upon arrival at the radiation clinic yesterday morning, I learned the call was to tell me the radiation machinery had stopped working. So, no radiation yesterday. C’est la vie. With a touch of good fortune, the equipment (and I) will be in working order on Monday, when I return for the next radiation treatment. I slept…mostly…for the better part of the fourteen hours that ended around 6:30 this morning. During that long sleep, I seem to have lost the majority of my remaining strength. It’s probably the day-before-yesterday’s radiation; sucking up my energy. Frustration is only a fraction of what I feel at the moment. Anger, annoyance, disappointment, and a flurry of synonyms and their surly cousins contribute to my unpleasant attitude. I daydream about: regaining my strength; overcoming the cancer cells; becoming at least semi-productive again. Until the most recent chemo treatment, the steroid infusions that accompany the chemotherapy drugs gave me a boost of energy. But the boost did not seem to materialize this time; at least not so that it was particularly noticeable. Anyone reading this post (and most recent blog entries here) probably is tired of me ranting and complaining. I am, as well. I tire of writing the same damn thing, over and over and over again. I am capable of infecting readers, and my own brain, with intense boredom and pointless reminders that I have nothing of measurable interest to share.
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Though I’ve slept close to fourteen of the last fifteen hours, I am confident I could—without much effort—drift off into a satisfying sleep. But weakness can interfere with comfort. And satisfying sleep involves adequate comfort. So one’s own weakness can struggle with one’s body, making the state of sleep difficult to enter. The cycle of unconquerable fatigue.
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Okay, John. Buck it up. All’s well with the world, right?
