Thursday night was not great. I woke up with a start. Felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breath. I could breathe, and I sat there deep breaths in and deep breaths out. When you've had tumors in your lungs, all breathing issues tend to produce anxiety. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to convince myself I was fine yet my heart seemed to pound faster and faster. Even though I was laying there breathing, I felt like I wasn't. I know it's in my head. And the more I try to convince myself it's not, it builds. I grab my kindle and head downstairs. It's 11:30. I start heating water for tea. I peruse my collection of anti stress, relaxing, calming teas. I start rearranging them. I then notice the dishwasher didn't run. I load the remaining dishes while the Tension Tamer steeps.
I wipe down the counters and realize the clutter is bothering me. Phil's work schedule is back to "normal". Our quality time consists of the time we sleep next to each other and chemo Mondays. And stupid flipping anxiety attacks are eating into that. I don't want to resent his work, but part of me does. We are so lucky. I am lucky to have him. He is lucky to have a job. We don't have to worry about healthcare or fighting the insurance. Before I know it the counters are sparkling. I move on to sweeping the floors. But first I wipe down the chairs and the couch. My hand starts to swell. A little reminder of the damage to my right side and why I try to "take it easy". The house obviously doesn't clean itself.
I tend to clean when I am upset or angry. I am concurrently envious and distrusting of a spotless house. I assume there is unrest behind the spotlessness. A friend once told me she cleans because it is immediate results, instant progress and control when otherwise things seem to be spinning into chaos. Within minutes of cleaning, I find that it gets dirty again, it feels like an exercise in futility - but yet it feels so much better when it's clean. Perhaps I have no control over the chaos, but there is some control here. My back starts to ache and I sit down with my tea and book. Somewhere along the line I fell asleep. It's almost dawn. I get up and my legs feel a little jello-y. Also normal ish. It was much worse on the old chemo, but I think this one affects my platelets a bit. I'll have to be careful the next few days, if I bump things or scratch too hard- I'll bruise and bleed. Nothing too bad, just have to be careful. The first few cycles this symptom would happen by wednesday and last til Saturday. Now it shows up and weeks into the next week.
Lily comes down and sits by me for a minute. I feel icky. I kiss her big fluffy curls and head upstairs. I feel weary. Phil is awake and shaving. I kiss his back and tell him my legs feel like jello. He comments that I have been walking more. Not that kind of jello- not the I'm a little shakey cuz my body is getting stronger. It's the other kind- like after you've had the flu and you just feel like a weaker version of yourself. that's me. He's already made the bed- I climb on top- he brings me a soft blanket and drift off. Good sleep. For 2 whole hours. Now why can't I sleep like this at night.
I wipe down the counters and realize the clutter is bothering me. Phil's work schedule is back to "normal". Our quality time consists of the time we sleep next to each other and chemo Mondays. And stupid flipping anxiety attacks are eating into that. I don't want to resent his work, but part of me does. We are so lucky. I am lucky to have him. He is lucky to have a job. We don't have to worry about healthcare or fighting the insurance. Before I know it the counters are sparkling. I move on to sweeping the floors. But first I wipe down the chairs and the couch. My hand starts to swell. A little reminder of the damage to my right side and why I try to "take it easy". The house obviously doesn't clean itself.
I tend to clean when I am upset or angry. I am concurrently envious and distrusting of a spotless house. I assume there is unrest behind the spotlessness. A friend once told me she cleans because it is immediate results, instant progress and control when otherwise things seem to be spinning into chaos. Within minutes of cleaning, I find that it gets dirty again, it feels like an exercise in futility - but yet it feels so much better when it's clean. Perhaps I have no control over the chaos, but there is some control here. My back starts to ache and I sit down with my tea and book. Somewhere along the line I fell asleep. It's almost dawn. I get up and my legs feel a little jello-y. Also normal ish. It was much worse on the old chemo, but I think this one affects my platelets a bit. I'll have to be careful the next few days, if I bump things or scratch too hard- I'll bruise and bleed. Nothing too bad, just have to be careful. The first few cycles this symptom would happen by wednesday and last til Saturday. Now it shows up and weeks into the next week.
Lily comes down and sits by me for a minute. I feel icky. I kiss her big fluffy curls and head upstairs. I feel weary. Phil is awake and shaving. I kiss his back and tell him my legs feel like jello. He comments that I have been walking more. Not that kind of jello- not the I'm a little shakey cuz my body is getting stronger. It's the other kind- like after you've had the flu and you just feel like a weaker version of yourself. that's me. He's already made the bed- I climb on top- he brings me a soft blanket and drift off. Good sleep. For 2 whole hours. Now why can't I sleep like this at night.
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