Once again, my oncologist decided against administering chemo treatment, based in part on a low blood pressure measurement and my ongoing and worsening congestion. She prescribed an antibiotic and steroids and said she agreed with our plan to go to the urgent-care clinic in the same unit, which we did. The noises in my ears…the sounds that only I can hear…with every inhalation…continue. I took my first doses of the prescribed pills this morning, despite not following the advice to eat breakfast. My preparation for this morning’s PET-scan included skipping any foods or liquids (except water) until after the scan. For some reason, I decided the advice not to eat or drink before the scan should supercede the recommendation to eat before taking the new prescriptions (the advice to eat was made because the new meds can cause gastrointestinal upset). I probably should have asked one of the medical professionals to weigh in on which competing advice I should follow; it’s a bit late now, though.
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This morning’s distressing dream involved trying to find my room in a terribly confusing hotel. The confusion was exacerbated by elevator banks that added to the confusion. And the reason for my presence in the ghastly complex hotel involved a client association whose policies about registration refunds were irrational, at best. The rest of the dream was fuzzy…in its clearest moments.
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I lack the energy and inclination to shower before I leave for my PET-scan. I need to leave in less than thirty minutes, but all my motivation is directing me to return to bed for the few minutes available to me for a tad more sleep. I have never skipped a PET-scan or CT-scan before, but I’m leaning toward making today a first. The day looks and feels dull and cold. It’s the sort of day designed specifically to make confronting the world’s demands almost impossible. Ach. Warmth and sleep call out to me. But the chilly fingers of reality reach around my neck and squeeze in reply.
