My human is broken
September 1, 2017
So of course it’s a beautiful day with low winds and near perfect weather. I’m sitting here at this desk while the boat that I was supposed to be on cruises out to the fishing grounds for the day with two good mates and my missed opportunity. “Why?” (at least one person asks); I feel as weak as a kitten pulled from a flooded creek. I simply don’t have the strength to sustain a day of fishing, coupled with the fact that I’m hesitant to do anything that would send me back to hospital for four days with some everyday virus/bacteria that I may encounter. From over confidence to trepidation in two weeks…here is where the psychological expectation confronts the physical reality; or as my poodle laments “My human is broken.”
The second cycle of chemotherapy was streamlined for me allowing me to only have to attend the day clinic of administration on the first day of treatment. The next two days were performed at home via oral medication thus negating two further three hour round trips (a blessing to save fuel and wear and tear on the car). I found the effects of this time around somewhat sublime and thankfully without too many side effects yet it was not the physical boost that the first round anointed me with. I felt weak and fatigued to the point where even vacuuming the house put me squarely back on the couch for an unwarranted nana nap.
After several days of such inactivity, I guess that the natural flow on effect is the lack of mental stimulation that turns quickly to boredom, self-depreciation and even a touch of depression. In other words “Dam, it didn’t work this time...I’m not getting better.” What I should have factored in is the preceding week that literally put me into a hospital bed for four days that still existed in my system and demanded a repayment of rest and restoration. However it is days like today that clamber aboard the old self-pity barge and encourage you to flounder until you discover your own unique life raft.
“My life line?” asks at least one person yet again…my beautiful wife. She who has also suffered vicariously these two weeks with her own malady of my flu and asthma and yet who still remains my immortal beloved in thought and deed. This is where any words would fail to paint a picture of love and devotion such as hers. I don’t believe that death could ever separate us my darling and I know with a surety that my love for you will live on, so relax baby, I’m good.
And there it is…I’m back now feeling as good as I did three weeks ago. I’m positive, now energized and more learned about what I can do and what I have to accept as this change takes me to where it will. I am truly blessed and so grateful to have found this way out of the fog; and it was due to the incessant barking of an insufferable poodle who thinks now that it was probably better when his human was broken…he didn’t yell at me that much.
Who am I kidding…I cant yell.
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