Can't Get Me Out of My Bed

So, I spent several days hiding in my room. Literally hiding under the covers wishing that I could just will myself to die right there. Everything hurt, the exhaustion was unbelievable, the psychic pain unbearable. My mouth was sore, nothing tasted right, and my stomach was a mess. I am normally a power napper, fifteen minutes and I am ready to rock and roll for the rest of the day. No more. I have been sleeping for hours at a time during the day, several times a day. When not sleeping I still lay in bed watching episode after episode of The West Wing. This is an excellent show, by the way, if you have any interest at all in the workings of our government. Not a lot of personal drama, just a look at life on a daily basis in the White House. I like to fantasize about a life with little drama, just high powered decision making and a security detail following me everywhere.

On Thursday I felt marginally better, I decided that maybe actually getting out of my pajamas and putting some clothes on might make me feel human. It was mostly a symbolic gesture, not really achieving the desired effect. I did make a trip out to the grocery store with the help of some friends, which only made me want to go back to bed for the rest of the day. I stayed up for a while, but my bed continued to seductively call my name. I was powerless to resist.

At 1:00 a.m. Friday, after several hours flailing around in bed trying to get comfortable, I made the command decision that I would refuse any further chemotherapy. I would not allow myself to continue being poisoned. I was firm in my resolve and said so on a breast cancer support page that I joined a few months ago. I received many responses to my decision, ranging from "please reconsider" to "you can get through this" to "you whiny baby, you piss me off". I heard the experiences of women who have gone through dozens of cycles of chemotherapy, radiation, numerous surgeries. Women who have been so sick that they were hospitalized. Women who have had recurrence of cancer in spite of all treatments. By the cold light of day on Friday I was beginning to feel a little better, and slightly ashamed of myself for my middle of the night pity party.

Today I took my dad and grandkids to the library. I only needed one nap when I got home. Dinner tasted okay. I have a week and a half until my next treatment. I am going to eat the most nutritious food I can, hydrate myself really well and prepare for the aftermath. I will bathe myself in gratitude for all of the love and support that I receive daily. And try to stay out of the bedroom.