Catching up

I have not posted in a week or more, and of course there are reasons. First, my dreams started getting very violent. Those dreams are the first warnings of PTSD kicking in. Yes, I have PTSD, not from 'Nam but from childhood. More precisely long term PTSD, the difference being that it took years to get that way so it permeates my life in few ways that aren't stereotypical. I don't go nuts, instead I grow very isolated, I lose my trust in those around me. I tend to draw all my feelers in and draw back from people, from everybody. And I tend to get rather dark about it all. When I get dark I don't mean to be unpleasant but everything comes out way too depressing. So when I recognize that tendency I shut up. I asked for and got some anti-depressants. First thing they do is really emphasize that attitude, that dark and dour attitude. That is really shut your mouth time. Later on the anti-depressants are supposed to reverse the effects of the PTSD. We'll see.

Second, in the middle of that funky deep melancholy I tried to get information from New York about the possibility of the procedure I need to have done. I need to add that I don't like New Yorkers, they are a foreign form of life to me. They are abrupt, arrogant and just plain harsh. So the phone interaction did not go well. The end result is I may have bugged the coordinator by calling her once and emailing her once, a week apart. She was abrupt on the phone call and did not return my email. My mood made me believe that the procedure is off. Whether that is true or not is uncertain, but that conclusion threw me into a funk as deep as you can imagine. So, I will simply let it go and see if anything ever comes of it and keep what optimism I can muster in play. Without that operation I am sunk. You cannot imagine the deep mental anguish this is all producing in my pointed little head. Not the peak of my worry bin by a long shot though.

I went in for my infusion this morning and they cut me off short. My white and red blood cell counts were low, like dangerously low, while my blood sugar was dangerously high. They sent me to the ER which read my blood sugars considerably lower and my WBC and RBC a little higher. They are very concerned about infections and me being in crowds, especially children or sick adults. One suggestion was that I wear a surgical mask all the time. But I managed to convince the cancer center team to give me the infusion. Imagine, someone begging for a chemo infusion. Not ordinary by a long shot. But I got what I wanted, even though it will further lower my WBC and RBC. They are all worried about my blood sugars too. Frankly I credit the high blood sugars to the fact that I went into a deep depression over the New York episode and literally slept the bulk of the previous 36 hours away. You don't do anything and your blood sugars will go up, not to mention some a candy bar and key lime pie and a lot of honey on my oatmeal this morning for breakfast. Yeah, I'm a mess emotionally and physically. You don't want to read the list of pills and procedures I have to do every day, every meal and so on, and added about three more in the last two days. I need to make a day long list just like the takeoff check lists for pilots. I take something like 20 or so pills at specific times during the day. And poke myself at least twice during the day. Some of the pills interact I am sure, and none of them have any fun side effects. All of the chemo chemicals cause issues, among them going bald, again. I shaved my head, again. It is cold outside, very cold, my head gets very cold. The only cool thing is that I take the hydrocodon to combat the headache the high sugar levels give me and that makes me just a little buzzed and detached from it all. That allows me to think. So, I have had a hard time emotionally and physically and it is all part of the disease and I get 'away' from it with prescription drugs. But I can't bitch really, I have it easy compared to most pancreas patients. No nausea, no pain in my gut and I have survived far longer than most. But it is not pleasant.

So I make up my list of imaginary resolutions and I lie to myself that I will actually do them and things will improve. Some of them I will actually do, some of them I will half ass do and some will just get lost in the mumbled life that is my day to day. Somewhere on that list is to defy my tendency to get all isolated from the world and get some social plans. Times with friends are really the only escape I ever get from this mess. When I am with people I can forget that I have terminal cancer that it will take a miracle and/or an operation to survive. I wish I had something uplifting to add here but I don't. It is a day to day struggle to keep my sanity and my health. I keep saying, 'just make every day as normal as possible'. Sounds simple, but the implementation is tough, every day it is tough. My one bright spot is that Sunday I can have a glass or two of red wine again. I plan to.