My last email to you was 12 days ago, and decidedly not filled with a tremendous amount of good news. And then I fell off the planet. Apologies. Sortof. I mean, I’m sorry that I haven’t kept you updated, but I’m not that sorry because I spent the time sleeping a lot and getting better. So, deal. But I mean that with all my love.
I checked out of the hospital last Friday (the 20th) with all sorts of ridiculous pain prescriptions that Michael sweetly filled and I just as sweetly ignored. Dilaudid did an excellent job of killing off the pain from the bone marrow growth, but it switched from making me sleepy during the first 24 hours to making me anxious during the second 24 hours (they actually have a name for this: “paradoxical” reaction…jesus) and then it made me puke so I was done with pain killers right around the same time my body was done with processing the pain, thank god. It took me a solid 72 hours to stop feeling woozy from all of the stuff that they had given me, at which point I decided that opiates and I are simply not a lovely combination. Useful at times, granted, but not a relationship meant to last.
I’ve spent the last week being beautifully nurtured by my mother, who decided that enough was enough and landed in Chicago last Tuesday and sent me straight to bed while she did laundry and sorted out the refrigerator. I suppose even 33-year-olds need their moms every now and again. Apparently my Type-A personality was getting in the way of my healing. That’s the allegation. I have no idea what anyone is talking about, though. I think it makes a tremendous amount of sense to write a legal memo while on Dilaudid, and I don’t know why the nurses thought I was completely crazy. Although now, after two-a-day naps and being completely banned from my work computer, I feel about a million times better. Hmmmmm. I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned in there somewhere.
This afternoon, Michael and I walked from our apartment, up Michigan Avenue amongst the tourists (which made me laugh), and over to the hospital with our supplies (computer, iPad, Jambox, books, down pillows, hospital clothing, stuffed animals, warm wraps, pictures, and toys) for the next 5-6 days, and I’m just now getting the first doses for Round 2 of chemo! Which means I should probably sign off before the Benadryl makes me completely loopy.
Physical update: I feel great…which hopefully will last because we’ve figured out all of the problems that I could possibly have with all of the drugs I’m taking…fingers crossed while eyes rolling. I’ve lost my hair, but have two wigs (one “for work,” and one “for fun”), three hats, and a billion scarves to mask it, although my bald head is very cute. I’ve had some issues related to the fact that I’ve lost an additional 10 pounds since June 28 (which makes it a total of 20 since about May 1)…I’m now the same weight I was when I was a sophomore in high school, which is by no means healthy and has given me a fantastic excuse to eat macaroni and cheese for every meal. But apparently either the tumor or the chemo (or both) is eating my food for me, so the most I can do is just try to catch up. If any of you have any recipes for ridiculously fattening food that you would by no means EVER MAKE EVER AGAIN (even though it was the most amazing thing you’ve ever put in your mouth) because you gained 5 pounds after just looking at it, please pass them along.
Still taking love and hugs and wonderful thoughts…and a friend of mine found THE UNIVERSE on Twitter (@WORKINGUNIVERSE — disclaimer: I take no responsibility whatsoever with what’s written on that feed), so if you feel like inundating it with WTF, I’ll take it.
Much much love,
Lydia
Photo by Matheus Ferrero on Unsplash
