Seeing my image in the mirror, no hair, looking like a cancer patient--I don't know, it makes me feel more like a cancer patient somehow. And when it's in the middle of the night and the umpteenth trip to the bathroom, thinking two days of laxatives and stool softeners are finally going to do their job, it's a major effort to avoid looking at my image in the mirror. I crawl back into bed each time and realize the gravity of my situation has perhaps escaped me 'til now.
I have breast cancer. I just shaved all my hair off my head and I have to reposition myself two or three times so I'm not laying against the grain of the stubbles that haven't fallen out yet. I'm thirsty but the bottle of water on my bedstand tastes awful to me. I'm hungry, I mean really hungry, and know I'll have to get up and eat a little something even though it's 1:30 am. Yet, I don't want to put anything else down my throat for my stomach to have to process. I shudder at the image of adding more bulk into my body that isn't passing food through properly. I finally have to eat something and remember the can of apricots in the cupboard. Good for constipation and the juice will quench my thirst. It works. I feel better, crawl back into bed and sleep for 4 hours straight.
ten years of blogging
1 week ago