Long weekend

I’ve been wandering around (or lying down, or sitting down, or leaning against a wall) wondering why I feel this malaise that I don’t remember from the start of chemo last year. I’m noticing the movement of my body feels sludgy, there’s a lack of articulation. It wasn’t like this last time, I think, I don’t remember it being like this.

Because it wasn’t. Less than 24 hours after the first cycle of the second round (February 2011, for those of you playing along at home) I was in the hospital having tubes inserted wherever they could be inserted as I was rushed in to an emergency surgery. I don’t remember feeling like this last year because I felt so much worse. This? This malaise is tiresome (to both mind and body) but it’s tolerable.

I’ve been taking Salome — a/k/a Sal, a/k/a Sally-mae, a/k/a Skull, a/k/a Skullamina, a/k/a (most often) Dog, (most often) said in an affectionate tone — for long walks through High Park. Her 13-year-old joints give me an excuse to set the pace to meandering. Getting out for a couple of hours in the morning and a couple of hours in the evening lets me shrug off the fact that I’ve not stayed awake past 11 p.m. since Wednesday and that I sleep until 8:30 or 9:30 a.m. and slip in an hour nap somewhere in the early afternoon. My dreams have changed since I started sleeping so much, though I won’t get into that. No one really wants to hear about dreams.

The fatigue will lift in a few days, so long as I keep feeding it with sleep and exercise and food. My neighbours — upstairs (who are also my landlords), on each side, and around the corner — have set up a schedule wherein they bring me dinner every night. It was strange and mildly uncomfortable to accept the offer — independence is, shall we say, difficult for me to give up — but I am glad I did. The delivered dinner also extends to the occasional breakfast or lunch. And snacks. I appreciate not having to think about food.

Colleen said the other day, I would be so much better at having cancer the second time around. I told her she would be. And by the third time, you’re practically professional. You settle into the rhythm. You feel less buffeted.


About Alicia Louise

I'm a writer, editor, fact checker, storyteller, events organizer, chronically busy yet endlessly lazy, mildly neurotic (though I keep the neuroses well-hidden, one hopes) 32-year-old with recurrent ovarian cancer. I like people and good writing and straight talk. I have a hard time feeling sorry for people, including myself, but the people that I love, I love passionately; one may even say creepily. I try to keep that mostly to myself. I'd like to be charming, but I'm usually just a mess. I'm like a gull slamming into your windshield.
This entry was posted in chemo days, Indignities of the human body, Second recurrence, this is me and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Long weekend

  1. How great to hear your neighbours are bringing you food. Food was my biggest (after the cancer) worry during chemotherapy. Keep up the sleeping and slowness – much better than emergency room visits – and I hope you feel better soon.

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