Rough weekend.

Settling back into my life and realizing it’s not really mine, it’s a cancer patient’s and I don’t want it.

Nausea almost daily lately — not sure what the reason is but obviously not enjoying it.  Popping Zofran on almost a daily basis at this point.  Trying to get in to see my local oncologist for my 60-day post-transplant appointment so will see if I can go that long before dealing with it.

Having issues emotionally lately.  The cat thing is part of it — I can’t think of Mischief without getting overwhelmingly sad to the point of breaking down, which seems abnormal to me.  I mean yeah in most ways he was my best friend for 11 years but he was a pet.  It occurred to me this past week, however, that part of this may be because I think I just get along with animals better than people.  The mild discomfort and awkwardness, the emotional barriers, the shyness and slight introversion — none of that enters the equation with pets.  As such I wonder if due to that I’m suffering more than most would over this?  Not sure.

I want cats again but I’m afraid to bring it up with my wife for the time being.

I took Ariana on a daddy/daughter date to the aquarium this weekend, which was bittersweet.  She had a blast and loved the sharks, but it drove home the demarcation between my past life and my current one.  As I walked behind the scenes with her it felt like a different world, one that’s moved beyond me, and it saddened me a bit.

I’m not sure I can do justice to why in terms of explaining that with just words … your entire perspective shifts when you put on the proverbial cancer shades.  I can still, if I focus hard enough, remember what life was like almost a year ago when none of this was happening and my goals outside of Ariana-related stuff consisted of becoming a scuba instructor and continuing on like usual at the aquarium.  But now there’s this dark cloud obscuring it all, creating doubts and tethering the dreams I had like a ball and chain around my ankles.  Whether I’ll need maintenance chemotherapy, how I’ll still be needing monthly infusions of Zometa (the bone strengthening stuff that fucks me up for a few days every time) and the potential side effects and how to work that into a schedule where I want to submerse myself in somewhat unclean water.

Pre-transplant your focus, because that’s such a big, intimidating and landmark deal, is on the transplant.  Now, though?  I focus on day 100 post-transplant but looming over the horizon, and now visible really for the first time, is a life with cancer as a constant companion.

It doesn’t look like a lot of fun.

Another rough one.

Hard weekend (they all seem to be getting that way lately).  Had a lot of fatigue on Friday and Saturday, and then Saturday night my stomach decided to stage a coup on the rest of my body and my sleep schedule.  Woke up at 3 am about to vomit, which I managed to avoid with a Zofran but was up the rest of the night with abdominal pain.  Threw up several times later in the morning anyhow so that was somewhat of a waste.

Hung out in bed most of Sunday trying to get some rest but just couldn’t sleep.

Called the Mayo Clinic today to see where we’re at with me getting out to Arizona to meet the doctor Dr. M. wanted to do my stem cell transplant, and Dr. M. left last week.  Sad, but knew this was coming.  Sounds like things are progressing, albeit slowly, to get me out to Arizona.  Hope they light a fire under things because I can’t just book a flight next-day and pop out there.

Super-stressed this week, hope things improve.

Bad night.

Bad night … stressed out, short temper, the works. I think it’s the reality of picking up all of these pills at the pharmacy on the way home.  Now they’re just sitting on my desk like the grim reaper.  Feel super tense tonight ever since I put Ariana to bed and I can’t shake it off even when I’m not thinking about any of this.

Have two minor adjustments to make to my medication, so glad I went and got the stuff tonight.  There’s a more effective version of one of the nausea meds (a version that dissolves under the tongue and hits you quicker), and they only gave me 1 week’s worth of one of the three chemotherapy drugs with no refills (the 10-pills a dose steroid).  The pharmacy tech was nice, although she offered me the obligatory “sorry” about having to take all of this stuff.  I understand, it’s just a hard reaction to hear so much lately.  I’m sorry too, folks.  Not quite as sorry as my daughter will be that she didn’t have a daddy because he died of cancer, but yeah.

I know that’s horribly unfair, I know.  I’m just bitter right now, it’s just me tonight.  This just is so intense at times I can’t cope with it.  It’s not like I don’t appreciate people caring, even strangers — hell I feel guilty most of the time for existing with this, like I’m bringing down the people around me.  I’m sorry she had to deal with someone with cancer today, talk about a buzz-kill.

Frustrated.  Like my Aunt said today, it doesn’t seem fair.  Got that right, Aunt B.

Time for another Xanax and to try to sleep this mood off.

I came close to doing something this afternoon that I have yet to do, which is break out the cancer card to get something.  I called the Sky Ridge RMCC to schedule the three chemo sessions I need to do there and the person who answered the phone didn’t know how to do that since my primary doctor in their group is stationed at another location, and I started to get the “this is too much of a pain in the ass” vibe you get from people who forget the compassion side of the job.  I was a few moments from giving her the sob story but she finally got the right person on the phone and got us all set up.  Hopefully correctly.

On a lighter note (which isn’t too hard to hit after the last four paragraphs), been watching videos for the last few hours trying to cheer up and calm down while putting together an Iron Maiden playlist for a friend’s young son (5 years old?  My memory sucks).  He was singing some horrifying “Call Me Maybe” pop garbage the last time I saw him, so it’s intervention CD time.  Wanted to put some Slayer on there too but we need to work up to that, and 5’s a bit young for the lyrics of Angel of Death, Dead Skin Mask and South of Heaven.

Six should be OK for that though, right?