Resting spot

By mid morning I was on the back porch assuming the fetal position.... Damn! I'm just so close. I want to be done. I want to be better, to taste it, so bad, that the excitement carries me away, zip zan, I got plans! Just enough lift for me to forget, for just a moment, to deny the warning bells, faint and familiar. Mentally I fought and argued, but, but, but I want... WANT, the Ego resisting reality... futile, so futile. So down I went and cried and cried and cried and cried (for the last time?). "Just take it easy" soothed my hubby, "Soon enough you will be all better." But, but, but not today...

The concept was tested again, later in the day. This time I passed.

Down on the flood plain,
Where the creek meets the river,
I allowed myself the desire to wander,
And accepted my resting spot.

None to follow

I shake my pillbox in the light,
3 more days, how is this right,
Few little blocks left still to swallow,
15 there, none to follow.

One for the road

It's 4am now... Since 3, I've been waiting for the vicodine to save me. Now I'm up making tea, trying not to cry, reminding myself to breathe, just take it, there is no more you can do, I know. I pause, to push my eyes, if I could just reach in far enough, pull the pain out... maybe this will be the last, after the meds are gone, they will leave... one last treatment induced hormonal headache for the road.... cheers...

Graduation

Four days left and I'm pretty much ready. Still got to finish the doll (the Ample Hep C felt doll I'm making for the ceremony), but it's already started. All the other pieces have been decided upon and collected. It's just a little "graduation" thing. Just me, my symbolic objects, and the setting sun. My plan is to head out Saturday, my first full day off meds, late afternoon, to the charred oak. I'm hoping I'll feel good enough to make it on my own, but if not, I've got back-up. I'll light a fire, set myself up, and watch the full moon rise. After that I may take a nap in the sand. It's going to be great no matter what. This has all been great no matter what. All worth it. Really.

Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Ah Ah

Enhancing treatment

When I catch myself rejecting help, I examine it.
When I resist doing less, I explore it.
When my mind fills with negativity, I replace it.
I sing to myself, long tales of victory.
When I find fear, I embrace it.
When I feel relief, I savor it.
When I stumble blindly, I pause to listen.
And I watch myself with full admiration.

La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

was spent eating chocolate covered almonds, egg rolls, and dried apricots, slowly shuffling from one comfy spot to another, jotting ditties in my journal and watching the wind blow, all while quietly singing to myself...

La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself. I mean I will be taking one more shot next Friday, so there will technically still be another "post injection Saturday", but I won't be taking anymore pills, so as far as "full treatment goes" this is still my...

La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

Oh yeah my La-a-a-a-a-a-a-ast Saturday-ay-ay-ay

Done with love

It was done with love, but it still feels like crap. Hubby injected last night's #47, smoothly, safely, calmly. Well he was, I was a jumpy wreck. Told him I would give explicit instructions, he was to repeat them back, and if I felt at any time he was not paying attention or not taking it seriously enough, I was going to pull the plug on the whole operation! "I wouldn't have it any other way" he replied. Good. Ok. Damn straight. Having assured my voice, my choice, my power, we giggled, we laughed, went through the drill, then in the needle went. It was great... until about 10pm, when the juice hit, the achenes started, and the head pounded out its penance. Ahhh, the memories.

Final Moments

Just filled my weekly pill case for the last time.

Swallowed FRI pm's two tabs for the last time.

168 hours from now I will not be doing this.

One week left

Woke up this morning to only one week left of meds.... and I could feel it, hum it, taste it. My daughter bounced as we opened our weekly presents*, the final line, only one left, only one left, only one left.... ahhhh

Spent some time last night flipping through my early Hep C journals (I'm up to 3), reviewing the first days and months of treatment, before the blog. I saw long lists of convincing theories for proper water intake, protein levels, and vit C (etc). A few proved essential, but most now read like screaming lines of desperation, for control, for power, for some kind of influence over each worsening predicament. I like how they ended though, all the same. Just minutes, or maybe hours, after the first clingy scratches, a point of reckoning appears on the page. A point of obvious release, acceptance, commitment, where the ego has finally let go of want and should. No anger, no blame, just a sudden coming to terms with what is, wrapped neatly as a new lesson. And just after that, the pain lessens, every time. Page after page, over and over, month after month, till I am here..... mmmmmmmm...


*weekly presents for me and my daughter, pre-arranged by my best friend, marking each week for the first three months, then again at 6 months (for another 12 weeks!), and now again for the "final four" (with one special one remaining for the end). Totally awesome, unexpected, and wonderful.

Me still

All went well, best case scenario, hubby was wonderful, and still I am beat tired. Woke tied to the bed. Doesn't take much to over do it when little can be done. This calls for a day off. Back to the fallen oak, large blanket in tow. I laid and pondered, me still, her in constant motion. Eight more days says the little moon.

Mega Tour in Tally

Got no plans for next week and I'm keeping it that way. Notta. Not going to leave this house unless I really really want to. Not even going to let anyone come to visit (so don't try). I'm hunkering down, gonna sit in the zone, and drift lazily through the final days (forget that sprinting stuff).

'Course, tonight I'm doing just the opposite .... Mega Tour in Tally, the Blue Man Group, Civic Center, daughter's first big gig, and my plans are running backwards:

* 7:30pm show starts
* -20 min to be dropped of at the doors (won't make the night if I have to walk across that parking lot)
* allow 30 min for dinner at the local sandwich shop (no cooking either)
* remember the 1 hour drive to town
* that means 5:30 pm in the car, ready to go (at the latest)
* expect 20-30 min to find tickets, gripe at hubby (sorry, but lets go ahead and plan for it), pack the camera, ear plugs, water, etc.
* don't forget the 20 min to set the doggus up for the evening (toy/floor check)

And then there's the shower, dress, and fog ... humm... at least home schooling's done, laundry's already in the drier, maybe a little more chocolate, and I guess I'll go ahead a get started. Concert starts in 7 hours... in fatigue time, that's a slow mo blink of the eye...

omoost don

Got one of those sappy sap cards from a good friend in the mail today. I love them, so cathartic. Read aloud through the second line, then busted out the blubber. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Tried to explain to my observing daughter what the card was about: hard times and overcoming them. "Like you" she broke in, shrugged her shoulders and added, "It feels good to have someone see you're doing it." (she is 6!) Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa... I wailed all over again.

A few minutes later she handed over her own card, "you er omoost don" read her fancy print... you are almost done. Waaaaaaaaaaa... with big hugs all around. 10 more days.

11 more days

After walking the 50 yards slowly, deliberately, consciously, I deserved a break. So I sat for 3 hours, watching my daughter explore her latest fort creation beneath a charred fallen oak. My mind drifted lazily among the milestones. The sky was crisp, clear, warm.

I'm in a good place

Though my body could be poured into a puddle, my mind feels tremendously alive, my emotions steady with strength. This is new. My body's weak, my spirit is not. In the beginning, they were inseparable. Down the emotions would dwell as my body lay crushed, crumpled, seized. Sorrow married pain. Fear felt like death, but I new this was not true. For many months I've worked to unlock them. Recognized early on, the road of less struggle pointed the surest way to healing, survival, victory. Efficiency became my game. Check points along the way ensured safety, so the the rest could be gently accepted. My body still groans under medicated pressure, but for this moment my mind feels free to care for it, speak for it, maybe even love it. I guess it's never to late to get the hang of this (only 12 days left).

Take away

Take away the wobble and weave, and the hunchy shuffle that marks each passing Saturday. Take away the hours upon hours of stoic stillness, vacant stares and droopy lids. Take all that away and you will find a steady strength building, roaring flames brewing, and the ability to let go, surrender, and pause.

Number 46

Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah number 46 is warming nicely to room temperature Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah just two more Fridays to go Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah visual disturbance heavy today Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah looking forward to never having that again Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah looking forward to never having none of this again Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah almost done Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah I can say that now Oo Ah Oo Ah Oo Oo Ah almost done.

Mt Everest

I have to plan backwards these days, maybe it's the medicated fog, but even small household chores require this technique (to go to the bathroom, I have to get up first). Today's Mt Everest demanded a list:

* 2pm - daughter's weekly homeschool group (though we've hardly made two weeks in a row since treatment started, make that hardly once a month) was having their annual Valentine's Party
* 1pm - leave the house (at the latest!)
* 30mins to cover the fruit trees (hard freeze expected tonight)
* 30mins to get dressed/packed.... ok maybe 45mins
* That means by 11:45am, 60 Valentine's cards, that have not even been started, had better be complete, packed, ready to go.
* Hours (?) of cutting, gluing, stamping, taping, drying, cleaning...
* 30mins (at least) to collect supplies from various rooms (scissors, markers, construction paper, on and on and on and on).

This list began at 9:05am, when I still needed more coffee. So tired, so tired, is there any caffeine in this stuff? I swear, I was hung over from yesterday's 10 sec watch episode. I had hoped to breeze past this little shin-dig, but my daughter's broken heart hurt more than my head. She was just so excited.

We made it past the stuff collection, then had to regroup. A sloppy melt down led us to the computer, what can it do for us? She's a wiz at that little paint program. I could set up a template (4 cards per page), let her have at it, lots of color, print, cut, bam!

Didn't happen quite so smoothly, but we made it, even to the party. Was it worth it? Well...... she thinks so.

Dear Jae,

Did I not tell you!
Did I not already tell you!
That I had a dream last night that my daughter found my watch!
I did didn't I! Even wrote it down didn't I! And it just happened! Just like my dream, too! She came running, yelling wildly, "Hey! Hey! I found your watch! I found your watch!” holding it out straight and high.

In my dream I immediately knew it was just a dream, but I liked how happy she looked, so I didn't say anything, just smiled, then I woke up.

But the real thing was crazy. I ripped off my imaginary jersey, screamed like a World Cup champion, dripping wet (having just stepped out of the shower), and punched the air. Not a pretty sight, I assure you. Which might explain the suddenly stunned look on my daughter's face. Yet I grabbed her up and bounced her around anyway. She wasn't quite mortified (she's only six), but it was an early version. Didn't phase me one bit or slow me down. She loosened up after a few rounds, just in time for me to wear out. She had found it at the bottom of her toy box, there since last Friday's partial room clean-up. Can you believe it? I can't believe it! Awesome!

Happy (medicated) Valentines

Valentines can come and go,
But not for lack of love,
This year I'm tired,
My hair's on fire,
Come near me and ...

All glitter and gold

So I got this week. Then next week. Then the next with its Final shot. That's it. Number 48. I keep checking the calendar. Is this real? I've painted the number into its square, bright yellow, flashy sun rays. I think I'll add some glitter and maybe some gold (to match my eyes).

Lost my watch

My blue specially picked out for it's amazing ability to have 3 separate alarm schedules watch (though I only ever used 2). My just for treatment watch, med timer watch, daily beeper watch. Bought it the day before my first shot, part of my hurried prep, getting things ready. Funny... couldn't wait to get rid of it, was never going to regularly wear a watch again, and now I miss it. Gone. I won't buy another one to finish out treatment.... won't tarnish it's place in history, ever. Oh well...

45 weeks of internal debate

Can I make it back, if I walk over there, or do I need to sit down for a little while longer?

Oo ah ah ah oo oo ah ah ah

Doc appointment today. Went through the drill. Everything's low, looking good, yeah yeah yeah. Special labs in four weeks, but no appointment. Viral load was checked a couple of months ago, still undetectable so no reason to recheck now. Re-test at three months post treatment, just for kicks............ ..................... ......................... ................................... ......................... ...... oo ah ah ah oo oo ah ah ah ................... .......... ....................... ....................... ............................. ........ if the virus comes back, most people will test positive within those first three months, she says................ .................... ...... sure lets do it, I say.................... ............................................. ........... then................................. ...... if it's clear...............................schedule another appointment................ for the 6th month final marker............ then.......... if that's clear.............. I'm done forever ............................ aaaaaannnnd if not ........... at 3 months... or at 6 ................... then I have the virus, try again.......... yikes, that would be a bummer of a conversation, huh ........... scheduled the 3 month appointment for June 4th.

Too much (re-told)*

I called my hubby.... though it took two separate phone conversations for me to tell him the truth, that fatigue had paralyzed my legs, that I was stuck in the car, in the carport, while our daughter played in the front yard. He was working, way out on the preserve. I didn't want to make him stop, come home, yatta yatta. We were fine. So I waited another 20-25 minutes before I called him back. I just kept thinking, any moment now, I’ll be able to get out of my car seat and walk into that house. I could do it, come on! Total time in the car: 1:06. Can you believe it? It didn't feel that long.


* from a later perspective, re-posted Sat morning

Now is not the time

Nope, forget about it.
No personal weeding going on around here.
Tried a bit this morning, too hard.
I don't have enough to take that on.
Just enough for me,
To heal.
(on a cellular level)

Reflected

A long draw in the mirror,
Reveals weakened muscles,
Tired lines,
Pale skin.
Reviewing the damage
Of all things,
Pointless patterns,
Baggage carried
Way too far.
Less than four weeks,
What to bring forward,
Must lay it all out,
Lighten my load.

That's right!

Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! Whoo Hoo! Whoo Hoo! Big Count Down! Is going on! Right here! In my head! Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! Just 25! More days! That's right! 25! More days! Whoo Hoo! Whoo Hoo! Shake it down! .. . .. . ... . . . . . . ... ... .. ... . ... ... ... .... .... (these are my feet tapping, I'm not really jumping around, still too fatigued, but you get the idea of my feeling)... . .. .. .... . ... . ... . . . ... .. . . . ... ... .... ... ... ... .... . ... . .. ... . Whoo! .. .. ... ..... .. . . ... .. ... .. . Get it Girl! . .... .. .... .. ... ... .... ..... ... .... .. . .. That's right baby! Just Days to Go! . .... . ... . ... . . ... . . ... . . . ... . ... .. .. . .... . . ....

3:45 PM, Sunday

Things are finally wrapping up. This month's treatment induced hormonal headache really kicked my ass. Lasted way longer than it should have. Kept waking me up every five hours like a bat to the head. What's up with that? At least it over shadowed all the other things going on. Didn't move around enough to notice any wobble and who could possibly feel any bone pain over that baby. Hey, kind of a new twist on things. Keeping it real. A few final blow-outs before the whole show is over. That's cool. Bring it on. Just making it easier to let it all go. Hew Haw Waaaaaa! Wew Paa! Yeeeeooooowwwww! Haaaaaaaa...

3:36 AM

I reached for the first vicodine, having just popped two Tylenol 30 mins earlier. It was an easy decision. Matters were changing. In waves and swirls, nauseous from growing head pain, 'The Headache' had arrived, on a Saturday, the bastard.

Last refill call-in

Followed the instructions (for the last time),
Pressed the Rx numbers, the # sign (for the last time),
The number of days till pick-up (for the last time),
Confirmed my phone number (for the last time),
Hung-up the phone.
Ha Ha Ha Ha!
Chugga Chugga Choo Choo!
Whappa Whappa Whappa Whappa!
Luppy Luppy Woo Woo!
Ha Ha Ha Ha!
Chugga Chugga Choo Choo!
Whappa Whappa Whappa Whappa!
Luppy Luppy Woo Woo!

Calendar flip

a new month,
bills due,
and there it was:
The Final Numbers.
The End (staccato).
Inhale (staccato).
My writing, weeks ago,
44 - 47,
in green.
Then flip, there it was,
March 2,
last day,
48.
Flip back, to write it in,
in the blanks, past 28,
more correct,
that is.
Now the number,
48,
light yellow, in the sun.
There, the whole,
on this, one page,
today, then tomorrow,
leading to 48,
all on one page,
all on one page.
I had made it, to the last page.
I had made it.
I had made it!
I HAD MADE IT!
I HAD MADE IT!
I HAD MADE IT!