I'm struggling today.
My standards of accomplishment are rapidly changing as this illness progresses. The mass is shrinking or breaking up and that's great progress. My blood counts are low but not low enough that I need blood products. I slept for almost three consecutive hours last night (and dreamed about some old Wild Wing friends). I walked to the mailbox and back by myself.
I'm also sad. Some of it is the medication. I am teary-eyed and depressed today and frustrated with myself at my lack of progress and energy. I am annoyed that I can't work up the energy to do Pilates and that I'm spending the whole day nauseated and curled in up in what Mom and I call Grandma's chair. Even the pills aren't helping the nausea, I'm stuck eating boring food, and the chemo-metallic taste isn't going away. My concentration still sucks and I can't finish magazines in one sitting.
Mom and I were talking earlier and I told her (and I'm trying to accept) that I just have to accept that I'm not going to feel great every day. I have to accept that some days it's a victory that I get out of bed. I can't beat myself up because I don't have the level of energy I had pre-chemo. Some days, I just have to use food as fuel, and hydrate and that's enough.
I also discovered I am one of the people in this world who hallucinates when they take Ambien. The breaking point came Tuesday night when I went on an hour-long freak-out, creating segments of a TV show that weren't happening, hearing voices, and convinced people from HR Pufinstuff were there for me while I was losing my hair. My mother was disturbed, obviously, as she tried to talk me down, but I was just terrified. I have absolutely no desire ever hallucinate like that again.
Also on the note of my hair: It's going to be gone by March. In my head (no pun intended), I am okay with the idea of losing my hair. I am okay with the idea of a cute Emma Watson pixie cut and know it's just hair and it's just temporary. But the reality of committing to cutting my hair, say this weekend, is just more than I'm ready for. It's stupid. It's hair. I used to be the person at the salon who was so "whatever" about every style.
Today I just don't feel ready for any of this.