This Week’s Pondering
May 17, 2022
Today is one of those days that plays on my patience and ability to remain claim. It’s taking every little bit of energy not to give into my anger. Breathe and Release
May 10, 2022
Appearances. We set great safety in how we look. We don’t want anyone to look at us as different. Facial shingles have changed that for me and I’m actually okay. How do you stand out?
May 3, 2022
Considering I have backdated a few updates, blog entries, even this question…if you could go back and change something, anything, would you?
February 9, 2022
I am at my best when I take the time for my journal routine. I cannot afford to miss this time. It sets me up for a stronger day.
February 2, 2022
Hi. Thinking on a few website/social media things…comment sections and hashtags specifically. One of my new daily journal notebooks is about Connections, hence trying to figure out how to connect more with those who stop by and visit. Thinking maybe #lbu or #lifebecomesunderstanding (kinda long) or #MuseChrisChatLBU (long as well) #MCCLBU (this just looks strange – #MccLbu, still strange). Maybe I’m just overthinking, again.
January 18, 2002
I haven’t been giving my sites enough time, which means I haven’t made time for myself and what keeps me balanced. I’m now back to the learning curve of how my own site works, please be patient with me as I fumble some more.
I’m not sure what you will find here because I’m not sure what I’m looking to discovery myself. I am sure that the older I become the more I know, I don’t really know much more than I did last year or the year before; however, somehow I know more about everything than I did before.
Where I’ve been on my journey to here
Below was written while I was in the hospital, I believe, it’s been nearly a year since I walked out. Today’s May 23 2019 and there’s more to tell of my story, but that’ll come a bit later…
Fighting for my life. Lymphoma to be exact. Relearning to use my legs…and toilet. Hey, never say I’m not blunt and open.
The summer of 2017. Thought burning heat at groin joints, back of neck, hands and feet were strange menopause symptoms.
September 11, 2017. Doctor visit and blood work…menopause or something else. I know my family doctor (and me) knew it was going to be cancer. Why not. It’s not like I’m invincible or special to avoid something that is so common. I’m just lucky it turned out to be something “they” believe can be cured. I’m looking for remission, maintenance, living with it. Cure? I’ll take it, but call me too realistic to hang onto that one simple word.
So, I’m restarting everything. Working from my hospital bed to keep the mind and fingers moving. Tomorrow, I should be starting round three of six chemo treatments. The rest of the week could be hellish, but I need to keep concentrating on therapy to move and eating. The close to hundred pounds I’ve lost isn’t what I ever looked for.
The hair loss…I’ll rock it when I acknowledge it.
What has me nervous is about two weeks after round three I’ll have another CT-scan in order to see if the spots on liver and spleen have either shrunk, shrinking, or gone.
What’s it like fighting cancer? Not much different than any other day except for being more tried, loss of appetite, not free to move as one wishes. It’s life and I’m being taught to use all the colours in my crayon box. To look around and open my eyes that too much time has already gone by with us saying…let’s do this, that, the other thing…and end up not doing any of it. There will always be something going on, but when you’ve been forced to be quiet and still you quickly learn the something is nothing.
How did I end up here? On way to a normal clinic visit I stepped down the stair landing and my legs said…nope. They just collapsed under me…moments after I had just walked to the stairs.
Ambulance ride here and up to a ward and first round of chemo.
Wild ride of a dream that was no dream. Why was the one nurse telling me to stay in bed? Wacky dream. Oh crap. I really am upside down on the floor beside bed, bare butt in the air, legs dangling, and catheter showing for the world to see.
No dream. I did it twice. Woke up in panic with second. Don’t remember trip to new area but no more of that drug. People pay to feel that out of themselves? Freaked me out.
Then pneumonia either following or followed by low oxygen. Did you know our oxygen levels should be 93% for our body to function healthily? Down to ICU…not the one my dad died in years ago, but one for us critical patients who need more oxygen than the other area is allowed to handle. At one point I was breathing on my own but with 80% added by machine. Six days later I’m back “upstairs” breathing all on my own.
Now I wait for round three.