Thursday, September 2, 2010

These Boots are Made for Walking

I tossed and turned most of last night, woke up at 3 a.m. thinking somebody was taking a taser to me.  I've been getting these weird sharp pains, like an electric shock in my torso.  They usually come in a little wave of two or three, just so I get the point. 

When I woke up this morning at first I thought my feet were better, but it wasn't long before they were the worst they've ever been.  I couldn't find my feet.  I took more ibuprofen and ate some breakfast and got back in bed.  I wiggled my feet and toes.  Yup, there they are, prickly and wiggling.  I stood up.  I got back in bed.  I looked up neuropathy again.  The electric body shocks are also a symptom of that.  Ok.  Not crazy.

I tried to figure out how I could work tonight knowing there was no way I could work tonight.  I had a meltdown.  In my bed.  Cried like a five year old.

This is not the worst side effect I've dealt with.  It's more annoying and frustrating than anything.  Comes and goes.  One minute it's mild and just annoying, like when your foot falls asleep and you try to wake it up.  The next minute, it really hurts or burns or aches.  I guess I'm just not as good taking the punches right now.  I want to work.  It makes me happy.  I feel normal, well sort of, as normal as you can feel approaching tables with a wig on.  I look forward to work.  I really do.

I cried like a toddler on a timeout.  No no no, mine mine, don't take work from me again!  Then I cried like a baby whose blankie needs to be thrown in the wash.  I guess I needed it.

I messaged my boss.  One advantage to your newly promoted boss being a former server there himself, I have his cell.  I wanted to call and tell him, but I'd pick up the phone to dial work then put it down again.  I knew I wouldn't be able to choke out the words.

I messaged Vonda too, to see if she had any remedies for me.  I will be seeing The Good Witch during chemo tomorrow, I know we will talk about it then.  Vonda had asked Kitty about it; she mentioned I'd probably receive Vitamin B after finishing with the Taxol.  I had some B complex, I put one under my tongue.

It's not as if this neuropathy thing surprised me, I guess I thought I dodged this bullet 8 weeks in to Taxol.

Dumb girl.  Numb and number girl.  I read online that some people do not start the neuropathy until after they have STOPPED chemo, even six to 12 months later.  Wow.  The gift that keeps on giving, eh?

I did very little today, made lame feeling sorry for myself and my prickly feet and toes and sometimes claw-like hands.

I did have to go to the lab to get my blood drawn.  Thank goodness it's right down the hill from my house.  You ever try to drive with very little feeling in your feet?  I don't recommend it.

The full time Lab Lady, who is a real doll, was there today, back from vacation.  [I can't remember if I gave her an alias name, I think I did, but can't remember it now.]  I filled her in on all my troubles giving blood these last few weeks while she was gone.  She already knew.  Labgirl, her fill-in when she was on vacation, had already told her all about me.  My phone rang.  It was Anne of Green Gables, checking on me.  I told her I was at the lab and about the numbness and I wouldn't be going to work tonight.  She told me hang in there, there's always next week, and she loved me.  Thank you girl.

Lab Lady, who has the prettiest face, waves of soft blond hair and nurturing glances like a TV Mom, poked the inside center of my left arm.  Not a damn thing.  I could feel myself breaking out into a sweat, and not just because the AC at the lab was broken today.  She told me while she was on vacation, she had seen the article about me, and had visited my blog.

She had us move to another room, saying it was cooler in there.  I could feel the beads of dew on my upper lip.  I already had a rough morning.  I just wasn't up to this desert in my veins again.  She hesitatingly and gently as she could poked me in the hand saying "this is going to hurt," and with some maneuvering filled a tube.  I was telling her about working, and then just broke down, from behind my sunglasses.  She patted me while she gently put the cotton and tape on my hand.  She hugged me when I got up, with tears in her eyes.

I don't seem to have much say over the bumps in this road, but I always seem to have angels who come to pick me up when this path knocks me down.  Funny, some people you hardly know, and yet, during this health crisis, have become so important to me.  They are my touchstones.  All my angels.

Not much later I drove to pick up Robin from Band.  What a relief to see his face smile at me, just his Mom; no idea of the day Mom had. 

Sympathetic Husband dragged in from work, took care of dinner, patted me, and wrapped my arm in cling wrap so I could take a bath.  I wanted to talk to you first.

Um, I don't have anything profound to say.

Just hi.  It's me.  I had a rough day.  Pat me.  Rub my feet.  Wait, let me wash em first.


1 comment:

masonmft said...

Keep yours eyes on the prize honey. Pat pat hug hug kiss kiss. Love you

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