I know you deserve an update.
I know I have a responsibility, which I created myself, to update this site frequently.
How have I been doing on the new drug?
Fair. Fair to partly cloudy.
Still not as bad as chemo. Not even close.
I have mild nausea occasionally, but no “production” on that front. My old compazine presription keeps it in check well.
My main issue right now is I have no energy. In related news, I also have no appetite. This is a bad combination.
I think you might best get the picture of my state right now if I told you I feel like an empty shell. Imagine if you will, and I know this is a lovely thought, a dirty windowsill, with a dry, crackly fly or beetle carcass just lying there. That si the closest thing to which I could compare myself these days.
My body just wants to lie. I would estimate I am in a horizontal position at least 20 out of every 24 hours, and am sleeping about 15 of those hours. My brain knows this only induces further weakness and fatigue. My brain doesn’t really care. My heart semi-cares, and occasionally makes a bold move to get me up and doing something, when I think about my children. But that isn’t happening often enough.
“Anorexia” is one of the common side effects of this drug. Yes, eating is about the last thing I care to do. I have tried to analyze why: does it make me nauseous? A bit. I have noted my mouth is strangely dry and every bite I eat is like chewing up cardboard. “Just make yourself eat, why don’t ya?” I don’t know the answer to that. I do try. Sometimes I do try. Every bite is torture. I realize how ungrateful that sounds. Forgive me, Jesus. Do you know this feeling too? Surely you do.
I have resumed taking the anti-depressant again. I was doing so well for so long I had discontinued it. We’ll see if that helps.
We’ve definitely come to the part of the story where the Moses, Aaron, and Hur analogy fits well. I don’t know how much longer I can hold up my arms. Any assistance on that front is appreciated. I know you are trying. I know you are battling fiercely.
I do want to share my shred of hope. My dad found my engagement ring. Maybe some of you forgot you can check my prayer needs here and didn’t realize it had gone missing. It was missing for two and a half days, but I kept praying, believing God could return it to me. My dad found it in the backyard. Yes, it had survived almost 3 days in the backyard, and didn’t get carted off by some bird or animal. Finding it was literally like finding a needle in a haystack. God still hears my prayers. I know He does. In the deep recesses of my dry cracked shell, I know He does. I believe He will heal me yet.
Forgive my silence. Forgive my dryness. But I must be authentic. It’s the only way I know to be. I know my joy will return. I know this is just a bad stretch of days. I know He’s not done. I hold on, white-knuckled, but I hold.