Walking In Eternity

This is the blog of a Doctor Who fan dealing with terminal cancer.

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You know, I still remember the oncologist telling me that my cancer treatment wasn’t going to cure me, and that I was only delaying the inevitable.

I told her that everyone does that.

It’s called “living”.

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My bed is glorious: bright pink fitted sheet with flowers, bright pink pillowcases with stars, lemon-yellow cellular blanket and a turquoise fluffy throw to top it all off. I'm either a Goth or Rainbow Brite. I have no middle gears whatsoever. 

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I've given in and bought a Fidget Cube. Hopefully this will make the outside world a little easier, and I won't have to keep on twirling my wedding ring or twanging my earlobes.

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I couldn't cope with the MRI. Horrible, horrible machine. They pulled me out after twenty seconds when I started hyperventilating.

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So tired of this war of attrition with my digestive system.

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I can't seem to get back to sleep, but that's all right. For once in a very long time it's because I'm excited and happy! 😆

[ksturf-deactivated20190529]

[five-guns-days]

redkilt :

Doctor + Wheelchair 

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My electric scooter is being delivered TODAY and this is pretty much how I'm feeling right now.

Its maiden voyage will be ferrying me into town to pick up a new laptop for my beloved as an early birthday present. I can do things. Independent things. Basic, everyday things. I can have a life again. I'm genuinely crying with happiness. 

Oh, and thanks to @gravelgirty, it will be named....(drumroll)....WOTAN! Thank you, dear heart 💖

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Don't get me wrong: I do appreciate seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, particularly since I can't even remember the last time that happened. 

BUT SHITTY AWFUL NIGHTMARES AREN'T AN IMPROVEMENT.

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Well, the blood test is all clear. I don't have any of the markers normally associated with Sjögren syndrome. Which is good....Sjögren is incurable, and obviously no picnic. However, I'm still without an answer: what IS causing this extreme dryness, then??

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Battles are never easy; but they're particularly hard when you know you're ultimately going to lose the war.

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Progress

Well, my father's finally been admitted to the psychiatric evaluation unit on a voluntary basis. It took some serious debate with the doctors, mind you; but once we informed them that Dad was refusing to eat, sleep, bathe or take his medication because he believed (as he told us in so many words) that there was no point doing any of that because he was already dead....the docs came around to our point of view.

It's likely to be at least a two-week stay, and we'll visit as often as possible and make sure he has as many home comforts and familiar objects around him as possible. Even so, I didn't sleep well last night. My brain is finely attuned to disturbances in the force, and the sudden absence of a member of the household - particularly under such stressful circumstances - was extremely jarring.

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My husband bought me this snuggly doggie today because I saw it and smiled. Every single day he finds new ways to remind me why I married him 😍

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By the way

In order to check that the cervical spinal metastases aren't interfering with my median nerves and causing the numbness in my hands, I have to have another fucking MRI. 

Stuck in that poxy claustrophobia tube again. Let joy be unconfined....unlike me.

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Wrong again

Bloody GERD. 

If I haven't eaten in a while, my stomach acid gets feisty and I get horrible stomach churning and chest pains.

If I eat too much, my stomach acid gets feisty and I get horrible stomach churning and chest pains.

If I eat the wrong kind of food, my stomach acid gets feisty and I get horrible stomach churning and chest pains.

Somewhere out there is a diet regime that'll pacify the world's tetchiest gastric system. I'd love to know what it is!

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Woke up with yet another bastard headache. No appointments today, thankfully; so it's two paracetamol and back to bed with plenty of cool water.

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Breaking down

Most of the time, I'm one hundred per cent determined to fight this fucking cancer to the bitter end. MOST of the time. But sometimes I get days like today - more and more often I get them - when every bodily system right down to the simplest of them goes into crisis mode, nothing works properly and my entire world is a chaos of nothing but exhaustion and agony. That's when my resolve collapses, I realise I'm looking at my future, and I start thinking of the least distressing way to put an end to all this. The worst thing is that I know none of my loved ones can help me with this even if my decision to do it is perfectly sound; they couldn't even be present at my bedside when I carried out my act, or they'd be arrested for murder. I'd have to die utterly alone. I do understand why people are wary of assisted suicide, I genuinely do - but by the same token it takes a heart of stone to condemn a loving partner, child or parent for helping their loved one ease dreadful and ceaseless suffering.

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Well, if I'm not going to sleep, I may as well spend the night listening to Pearl Jam. Gonna sweat anyway; why not sweat because of Eddie Vedder's superlative voice?