Crawling along

My Dear, Dear Reader,

The last few days prove, once again, the constant ups-and-downs of my illness. I am now down. Skip the rest if you wish. You've heard it before.

The last two nights have had me tossing and turning and fretting, my mind spinning from one fragment of an agitated thought-ette to the next. Then I arise to enter a semi-awake state alternating between stupor and complete obtundation as the sun completes its chariot ride through the sky. My conversations seem coherent to me (?) but I don't have the mental energy (or ability) to follow anything too complicated or abstract.

For example: "Judy, my name is Shelby. I am your niece" would fall in the got it! eureka category for me. But "Judy, I looked out from the kitchen window this morning while brewing us up a cuppa and saw a moose humping Mad Dawg, my chihuahua. Mad Dawg looks like a cowpatty now." Huh? is Doak talking about a neighbor and my trashcan? Is my gown open? Is Ann Coulter coming for tea?!!

I suppose this neither here-nor-there state could be linked to the fact I had a double whammy 2 hour Gemzar dosing on Wednesday and then a double dose of contrast for my CT scan on Friday. Historically both make me more ill. Still, as much as I would like to banish the thought from my mind, the cancer itself, especially the tumors screwing up my liver, must be contributing muchly to the funk.

I have been such a shadow of myself of late I have not shambled out to my deck Shangri-La this season despite a few weeks of lovely weather. And my nesting areas there are just steps from where I tend to sit drifting in and out of sleep in my indoor chair. Paul has even started answering the phone for the most part (NOT generally done in our time together) and handing it to me if I am both alert and compos mentis enough to take a call.

Books? I go through the motions but generally find it hard to stay awake long enough to finish the page. Then I have to re-read it since I cannot recall what I have read. And again. And again. My library consists of one extremely well-worn page. Don't ask me what it is about.

Think "Groundhog Day"*

My life moves at a glacial pace. I wonder if my bad days are outnumbering my good; that with my current definition of good being "dispirited" and "exhausted".

And...my pain is back. Not FiresOfHell. More like that apocryphal frog sitting in the slowing heating stovetop pot of water.

Slumping forward in my chair, perhance to drool,
Judy (via jeff)

*Plot summary for "Groundhog Day". Produced 1993.
A weather man is reluctantly sent to cover a story about a weather forecasting "rat" (as he calls it). This is his fourth year on the story, and he makes no effort to hide his frustration. On awaking the 'following' day he discovers that it's Groundhog Day again, and again, and again. First he uses this to his advantage, then comes the realisation that he is doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the same place, seeing the same people do the same thing EVERY day. .

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