It’s hard to describe not finding the time to write when you are trapped, effectively, in a hospital room with a laptop. Not really “not finding the time” as just not wanting to, I guess.
Feeling OK, although getting more fatigue and some slight nausea tonight. Mostly getting a tad stir crazy, missing my daughter more every hour. Struggling with what I’m doing here, what’s happening to me, the looks of sadness and incredulity I seem to get from everyone for a variety of reasons.
Family has started coming into town to visit, which is of course appreciated. I think they expect me to look more like something out of Schindler’s List than I am, though. Hair’s still connected and they have me on so many drugs that make you retain water I feel like the Titanic. People don’t know what to say, and I get that. Been dealing with that reaction since this all began.
Trying to keep my spirits up — the first few days it wasn’t too bad but there’s just no way to sit here, day after day, hour after hour, through the tests and rounds and being woken up and the drugs and the IV and not start really figuring out where you are in life. And where I’m at tonight is not home with my wife, and trying desperately to remember what it’s like to feel my daughter’s breath on my neck when she gives me a hug.
I want to go home. I don’t want to have cancer anymore.