I'm gonna need a wheelchair.
I wish I was kidding.
My dad, who is almost 70 years old, mentioned the other day when he and I were shooting the breeze that I looked worse than he did at 70. It was meant to be both funny and a reminder that being in this condition I'm allowed to take it easier than I have been.
Today, though I feel marginally better in terms of head to toe aches and pains and that general sense of malaise that dissipates ever more slowly after each new treatment, I had to walk very slightly (and I mean very slightly) farther from the disabled spots right in front of the door to my building instead having to park in the visitor location (because all the H/Cs were taken). And that was all I could manage.
By the time I got to my desk I was breathing so hard and coughing from the effort that several times over the first 30 minutes I was here I genuinely thought I was gonna barf on my desk.
In retrospect I should have.
Just walking the 40-50 feet to another supervisor's desk to talk about something requires a few minutes recovery and a serious consideration as to when I might make the return trip. If anything this is getting worse and not better.
Along with this are increasing moments of light-headedness, chest pains (which seem to be coming from the heavy breathing), and now a little discomfort in the arms. I have an appointment on Friday with my doc so we'll see if these experiences are normal for a 34 year old going through chemo.
Also of note, this morning I had a PET scan. Part of the prep for a PET scan is a carb fasting the day before. Typically my blood/sugar when tested in the morning is around 90-95 when fasting like this. This time it was 113 (which is close to being outside the test limits).
If this does get any worse I'm afraid I might need something like a wheelchair to get around easily. Or my pride may simply demand that I go on a much shorter Leave of Absence than I took last year just to give me time to either recover or get used to this.
I've gotten to the point where death doesn't seem like an unpleasant option but for one thing - it tends to be permanent and I don't want to miss the cool stuff. If it turned out that this is the way my life would be for the rest of my life (however long that would be) I admit I'd give serious consideration to being done with it.
In the meantime like all cancer patients I'll keep slogging through it on the hope that remission is just around the corner. I really thought I'd seen the worst this has to offer. So far I have, but it seems that I keep going a little farther downhill every week.
My dad, who is almost 70 years old, mentioned the other day when he and I were shooting the breeze that I looked worse than he did at 70. It was meant to be both funny and a reminder that being in this condition I'm allowed to take it easier than I have been.
Today, though I feel marginally better in terms of head to toe aches and pains and that general sense of malaise that dissipates ever more slowly after each new treatment, I had to walk very slightly (and I mean very slightly) farther from the disabled spots right in front of the door to my building instead having to park in the visitor location (because all the H/Cs were taken). And that was all I could manage.
By the time I got to my desk I was breathing so hard and coughing from the effort that several times over the first 30 minutes I was here I genuinely thought I was gonna barf on my desk.
In retrospect I should have.
Just walking the 40-50 feet to another supervisor's desk to talk about something requires a few minutes recovery and a serious consideration as to when I might make the return trip. If anything this is getting worse and not better.
Along with this are increasing moments of light-headedness, chest pains (which seem to be coming from the heavy breathing), and now a little discomfort in the arms. I have an appointment on Friday with my doc so we'll see if these experiences are normal for a 34 year old going through chemo.
Also of note, this morning I had a PET scan. Part of the prep for a PET scan is a carb fasting the day before. Typically my blood/sugar when tested in the morning is around 90-95 when fasting like this. This time it was 113 (which is close to being outside the test limits).
If this does get any worse I'm afraid I might need something like a wheelchair to get around easily. Or my pride may simply demand that I go on a much shorter Leave of Absence than I took last year just to give me time to either recover or get used to this.
I've gotten to the point where death doesn't seem like an unpleasant option but for one thing - it tends to be permanent and I don't want to miss the cool stuff. If it turned out that this is the way my life would be for the rest of my life (however long that would be) I admit I'd give serious consideration to being done with it.
In the meantime like all cancer patients I'll keep slogging through it on the hope that remission is just around the corner. I really thought I'd seen the worst this has to offer. So far I have, but it seems that I keep going a little farther downhill every week.