Bad Day

I could no more stop consciousness from sliding into my head than stop the sun from rising. Resistance proved useless and I finally rolled over to stare at the giant red LCD numbers on the alarm clock through tiny slits in my eyes. 5:27am. Ugh. Normally I am wide awake by now, eager to jump into the day. Not today.



I calculate whether I can risk waiting to take Sugar for her early morning walk, but I hear nothing from her crate, so I - gasp - roll over and close my eyes, too exhausted to even adjust the covers. Its no good. I have to get up for yet another trip to the bathroom. I have had to rouse every 2 hours all night long, and not for the kind of trip you can sleep through. Every single time I feel like a stallion divesting itself of the entire contents of its drinking trough. One of the effects of the treatments. I sigh and force my legs over the edge of the bed. Good thing the bathroom is right next to my room.



A headache is tap dancing at my temples, trying to get a foothold. I stumble back to my room and take a long long drink of water from the container on my dresser. If I don't stay hydrated, I will have another migraine for sure, and I want to conduct at church this morning. Unfortunately, the copious water makes me nauseous, and I have no choice but to head for the kitchen to get the Compazine. That will rouse Sugar for sure, and the walk will be necessary.



After taking care of everything, I flop down in the blue rocker coat and all, cuddle up in the bubble blanket, snuzzle with Sugar and drift in and out of sleep. At one point, I thought perhaps I could find a decent church service on the TV, but after flipping through dozens of channels, I had to settle for one where they were at least reading some Scripture. Not anyone I was crazy about, but sometimes you just want the company of a voice.



Every once in awhile, I woke with a start and checked the clock. By my calculations, I could leave as late as 9:15 and still be on time for rehearsal. Back up the getting ready time to 8:50, and its still all good. I kept waiting to feel better, but feeling better wasn't rolling along at any good pace. My legs felt like rubber, the nausea didn't seem to want to die down, I had no energy.



About 8am I started the "argument in the head" part about whether I should be going to church at all. After all, the choir will survive if I can't get there, even though it would be like cutting off my arm. But I know that often when you just get moving, things calm down and you gain some strength. And I also know people are praying for me, and the good Lord enables where you of your own strength cannot manage.



I finally decide to go but take it easy. I sit through most of rehearsal, make sure I have my water bottle with me, and just take things slowly. I am feeling better, though I look like the wreck of the Hesperus. My skin is dry and flaking and mummified. My lips are white and pale despite the lipstick. I am sure my color is not its usual pinky self. But service begins, and the focus takes my attention off the Jello legs and onto the sweet little baby being baptized, being brought into God's family. It was a tonic.



It lasted well into the sermon which was an excellent encouragement about community and caring for each other even during the tough times. But the nausea, despite the medicine, would not abate. At one point, I wasn't sure that even if I left I would be able to make it out without incident. Pass. Pass, please pass. Let my tummy settle. Let my strength revive. Lord, in Your house, please grant me your enduring strength.



But it was not to be. I finally let the liturgist know and exited during the prayers. The choir would have to manage communion (good Lord, the thought of having to even think about food in any shape was more than I could bear), the final hymn and benediction on their own. And I knew they would rise to the occasion. Rats. I head for the car and the short 5 mile drive to the stronger nausea medicine on the counter in the kitchen.



The rest of the day is something of a blur until later in the evening, having been spent mostly sleeping and asking Drew to walk Sugar. But at long last I felt like I came out of hibernation and found my sea legs. Deep breath. Last time you had a bumpy day too, but its passing.



I call a friend and we chat. What a boost in the arm! I needed to hear a friendly non-cancer stricken voice with news of the real world. I am blessed to have such good and understanding friends who just let me interrupt their schedules when I need a lifeline!



Drew and I settle in to watch a movie and slurp watermelon (perfect for settling a tipsy stomach and keeping you hydrated). Long day, glad its over, get to bed early, look forward to a better time tomorrow!