debutaunt.com

Change in the Weather

Ok.

Dear Dr. Leukemia.

Thank you for knowing what type of leukemia I have.
Thank you for helping me kick this cancer's ass.
Thank you for reading my chart and deciding what I need to do.

Thank you for stressing me the fuck out this afternoon by telling me now that I will be discharged on Monday instead of a month from now like you've been telling us for the last week. Fucking douchebag.

Thank you for putting my family (mostly Sis #1) in the horrific situation to try to figure out who will now be taking care of me when I'm at my sickest and need help getting my immune system back.

Thank you for making me sob for two hours after you said:

"Oh, your treatment is going well. You should be able to go home next week."

ME: "What? I thought I was going to be here for a month."

DICK: "Who said that?"

ME: "Well that's what everyone's been saying since I got here."

DICK: "Who is everyone?"

ME: "Well pretty much everyone. Including you. You said it front of my sister (uh, shithead, the uber organized retired lawyer/goddess) when she was needing some kind of timeline so she could figure out what was going to happen to me when I was discharged."

DICK: "No, I never said that."

ME: "Well that's what they've been saying since I've been here. That's what you said"

NURSE: "Well we wouldn't do that because you aren't over 50."

ME: "But that's what you all have said to us. My sister was making arrangements based on that information. That I would have chemo for a week and then would be here for approximately the next three weeks trying to bring my immune system back from death."

DICK: "Well why don't you ask the cleaning lady (who happened to be in the room), I'm sure she'd know."

Dick turns and leaves.

And scene.

FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. Yay. You're flippant and funny, yet you just dropped a shitbomb on me and my family. I was simply tired last Friday and now I have cancer.

I have a huge support system, but when it's the middle of the night and I'm sick or sitting on my bed with my hair falling out - well I'm alone. I know I have friends and my family I know that basically I have to be a fucking bitch and do what I've been doing (which I suspect is what made me sick in the first place) which is to just fucking take care of myself. That everyone has lives and stuff and issues and I just need to fucking take care of myself. I need to deal with this and not be dramatic and just say... yay. I can do this. I have cancer and I'm going to have to do all this fucking shit like go to the hospital 3-4 times a week for transfusions and monitor my blood sugar and remember to eat and make sure I don't have a temperature or be around anyone who is sick and not see my kid because she has germs and gets sick often...

Oh fuck it. Fuck it. I can't fucking stand this right now.

I can't stop crying. My blood sugars are too high and this shithead endocrinologist doesn't know WHAT THE FUCK SHE IS DOING. If I have a sugar level of 340 and I eat a power bar for dinner because I don't want to eat too much food to make them go higher (they fill me with steroids which jack up your levels anyway) then you can't just give me 10 units of insulin and then make me wait 3 hours before you give me the 35 units you should have fucking given me before I ate the stupid Goddamn power bar.

I want to deal with Dracula Blood, I shouldn't have to be monitoring and worrying about something that isn't brain surgery. Diabetes can be controlled. It's more difficult when you are sick, but it can be controlled if you know what you are doing.

You can't give me the most stress possible (by telling me that basically I am going to be on my own come Monday when I finish my chemo and put stress on my family to figure out my situation in two days), and then wonder why you can't bring my blood sugars down. Stress makes them go up. You people are stressing me the fuck out.

My nurse just gave me something to calm me down. My face feels like it's 100 degrees and it's all red from having high blood sugars.

I'm trying to calm down, but have been crying and now have a kleenex stuffed up my nostril because my platelets are so low that my nose is bleeding.

I am glad to be getting out of here because I will maybe get a chance to heal. To be calmed. To be loved. And to get some sleep.

But I'm also trying to give up the issue to God about trying to figure out who is going to take care of me and drive me 3-4 times a week to the hospital and watch my blood sugars and make my food and whatever else may be going on when I'm home dealing with the after effects of putting tons of poison into my body.

I just wish that this were easier. I knew it wouldn't be. But you would think that it could be. It doesn't have to be like this. And they don't have to be such fucking dicks about it.

I know I can do this, but the DICK is lucky he left the room before I had my say. I have to deal with his prick ass for the rest of the weekend, but my patient advocate is helping me switch doctors come Monday.

Give blood.

Yeah. Shaddup. I know I can do this, but right now I'm justa debbitching.

I'm going to sleep. And when I wake up I will continue to kick cancer's ass.

I would love to have my mom take care of me, but my father is having part of one of his toes amputated on the 9th of November. She needs to take care of him, AND she doesn't drive on the freeways (not to mention, the freeways here are of hell - so they are like the devil's freeway).

The "living with leukemia" video shows a man with his "spouse" taking care of her. Hmmm... does the spouse come with the chemo??

Grrrr

Posted by debutaunt at October 28, 2005 07:53 PM