Nights are the Worst

It is 4:12 am.  It’s not time to get up yet – no one is awake.

The window is open and there is a cool breeze that flows gently into my room which is both a curse and a blessing.

It’s the hot and cold flashes that are keeping me awake tonight.  I think it may be a side-effect of either the chemo – or forced onset of menopause.  Either way they drive me nuts!  Honestly, one minute I break into a fierce sweat and throw the covers off to welcome to cool breeze.  The next I am freezing cold and haul up my duvet above my head to get warm.  I even turn on the heating pad.  What?

Then, I ruminate.  I should NOT have read any more information about ovarian cancer treatments.  I should have learned my lesson the first time.  Curiosity kills the cat, right?

I felt good today thinking that this second round was so much more less stressful – I knew what was going to happen to my body and could be more “prepared”.  My sore throat – been there done it.  That’s my cells dying. I think.  So, I drink water.

That is a warning that my stomach is next so NO hot food.  Okay, so it’s food in general that causes stomach pain. I think.  So, I don’t eat.

Nope.  Not eating doesn’t work – maybe a little rice?  A little soft food may help control the acid release on my stomach that has been stripped of its cells?  I think.  So, I eat rice.

Maybe.  At least I could take my last dose of steroid.  Maybe the steroids will help me slow down the healing process and that’s what hurts?  I think.  So, I take my pills.

What about my mood?  I am friggin anxious and angry.  Is this how “roid rage” feels?  I can’t stand the smell of food cooking.  It smells good – but I can’t stand it.  I can’t stand the noise.  It is only the news and I enjoy watching the news but it irritates me. The phone.  I don’t want to talk to anyone today.  I just need to be alone.  I think.  So, I go to my room and hunker down in bed.  It has to be the withdrawal from steroid over-dose during chemo?  I think.

It is quiet.  I could not go through this process and then get up and go to work the next day.  I am sooo fortunate to have a job with benefits.  I don’t know how other people do it? How can they focus on getting better when they are too busy stressing about money and a job and maybe a family?  I have the luxury of being home and focusing on healing.  I have a wonderfully supportive husband, children, mother-in-law, and a job that provides me with sick leave.  I have no right to complain.  Oh, and did I mention the health-care is free and in my own home-town?

Still, nights are the worst.  They are a bitter-sweet.  They are quiet which allows me quiet contemplation and time to reflect.  Without this time, would I be able to adjust my attitude from one of self-pity to one of gratitude?  Is the breeze a friend or a foe?  I decide the breeze is a friend like chemo is a friend.  They are both there to help.  It is how I react to it that makes the difference.  Guess that is my lesson for the night.  I think.

Maybe that makes nights the best?

About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
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8 Responses to Nights are the Worst

  1. Gallivanta says:

    Roid rage sounds scary; worse than road rage. 😦

  2. I felt like I was right there, watching you, as I read this. And there was a wall of glass between us. And I can’t help. But want to. You are so strong for writing this.

    • inmycorner says:

      I felt like you would be here — and you do help —every post you make and comment helps! You are my escape sometimes, Colleen and you take me away from this temporary state of disrepair. So – thank-you. I’m not sure how strong I am – or just bloody stubborn that I don’t want to sit in self-pity and crud. But I like your description of me better – so thanks.

      • You’re welcome. And personally if stubbornness keeps us strong…be a stubborn little mule then. 🙂 Those stubborn mules sure get work done! I’m a little (a lot) flattered that I might provide ANY escape to you. I hope today is a good day, and tonight you find some rest.

  3. What a thoughtful post. I’ve never had cancer, but I can surely relate to what you’ve written. My heartfelt best wishes. Keep writing.

  4. kiwiskan says:

    just hang in there ♥

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