And then the sun came up even so

Some nights are just scary. Cancer does not allow us many loopholes. It never takes a vacation. It sits next to us every day. 

It even invades our dreams. I have nightmares nearly every night. Some are not all that scary, just really hard. Like the one I had last night. Being trapped in a movie theater. Unable to find a way out in the dark, losing my spouse. I knew that we had agreed to meet at a dolphin exhibit, but couldn't seem to find it. I was tired, bordering on exhausted. I kept looking. I would see T around a corner, across a room and....relieved....make my way to her, only to have her gone again. I would find the dolphin exhibit and decide to wait for her but then suddenly, that would be gone too. 

Nonsense nightmares. This is what the head nurse in my support group calls them. Still a nightmare, but more of a nuisance than a terror. 

Pain that only comes at 2 a.m. I will awaken and my left leg will be hurting and I will be unable to move it without excruciating pain. Top this with urgently having to pee. Now. Try to walk to the bathroom. I make it, lurching like Quasimodo, biting through my lip enough to draw blood. Or my shoulder will be on fire. CBD oil. It does work. 

Last night, I awakened and kept feeling what seemed like lightning bolts down my arm. What was this? A pinched nerve? A heart attack? When I first was diagnosed, this would have warranted a call to my oncologist the next morning. 

Now. No. I was notified at my last chemo that my electrolytes were so out of whack that I needed to take a two week break from chemo. To let my body rest and rejuvenate. Sounds kind of like a spa treatment, huh? It simply means that if I keep taking chemo, it will likely kill me. It also means that in the two weeks without chemo, cancer can travel more easily without that pesky chemo blocking the way. So, double edged sword. If I go without, I will probably feel better. If I go without, my cancer could also spread. It is a no win situation, so I try to take the lesser of evils. I will enjoy not having chemo sliding around my body. 

14 days. I have not gone 14 days without seeing a doctor, getting a medical procedure, or having side effects in a very, very long time. Because cancer never sleeps, I must also be eternally vigilant. 

If I call my oncologist and tell her that I feel as if my arm is being slapped with lightning, she will order tests. Tests are incredibly long and most end up showing nothing. Or something. But, I am already on my last course of treatment. If this stops working, I stop working. I will be put on palliative care and will only be treated mercifully. Trying to wrangle pain becomes first, instead of keeping me alive. No more chemo. The cancer will be allowed to plow its way through my body. 

So..what is the sense of having more tests now? Instead, I try to deal with the pain. I rock myself back and forth, whispering urgently to my dead parents for help. I am not religious. I don't know what is out there after death. But, I am spiritual and sometimes I feel them. Often, (and this is common with cancer patients, I am told) I feel their fingers smoothing my hair, the covers, me. It is so comforting that I feel it must be my father or my mother. My father and I had an enduring bond that my mother and I did not share. But, my mother died of breast cancer. She went down this road and can commiserate. Plus, even though my mother and I were never close, she would have never wanted me to suffer. This I know. 

I rub CBD oil or balm on what I can reach. I control my breathing. In through the nose, out the mouth. I put my ear buds in and put on some @LeeDeWyze, @JamesTaylor_com, @JoniMitchellcom, @Nirvana (sound silly? Cobain understood pain and how to articulate it), or @dcfc . I slide into the music, muting out the pain. It works. 

And then, slowly, I feel myself floating down, down, down. Halfway down, it is easy to panic and feel as if one is drowning. But, if you ignore it and keep sinking, you get to that place. That place where you can find rest. Peace. Arms to hold you. To pat you. Whispers of comfort in your ear. You know that you are in limbo, that if you float to the top, it will still be dark, so you stay put, letting yourself sink deeper still. 

Because, eventually, the sun will come up, even so. 











































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