December 14, 2005
The drip and the drip and the
I'm sleepy.
These drugs are starting to take hold of me and make me steely. I'm overly sensitive to how my body is reacting and feel the drip drip into me. I imagine reactions that aren't there. I feel things that aren't happening. And as I hear the tick tick of the drips, and the click of the monitor, I feel a sense of dread. I dread the nights here.
I know that the chemo is going to make me well. I know it. I feel it, yet I'm still scared and lonely and trying to be brave. Because I know it will come as close to killing me as it can.
I'm in my room. It's a nice room on a different floor. No granny can - yay! I'm listening to The Best of Sting and the Police. But I'm still sad tonight. Sad and random.
A family friend's father is here. On my floor. He's not well and has some infection with a high fever. He's 74 and is fighting, but his fight is nearly done. They said earlier today that he would be lucky to make it through the night. My friend was blinking tears when she told me. I want to be brave for them. I want to fight this for them because if this fucking disease can take such a spirited and beloved man as he, I want to beat it down. I don't want it to end me. I want to hate it and kill it.
His entire family came to see him. This loved man. This sweet, kind, gentle man has what I have. A sinister evil lurking. His fever went down, but his spirit is tired. He has been fighting this for a while, and finally said he didn't want any more chemo. He has a DNR on his file. D.N.R. Too soon. Too soon I say.
Drip. Click. Drip. Click.
I have cried this week. I have seen some of my loved ones cry this week. I have seen my friends cry this week, and it's been difficult. I want to be brave. But my spirit is tired too. My warrior is feeling tired. Not yet defeated, but just outright tired.
My sweet mother has been taking care of me. We had a never-ending day at the labs this morning and she patiently waited for nearly eight hours. She was in the waiting room and I was in the back waiting on the doctor and the admission papers. I wanted her there. I felt so vunerable and missed her. When I got admitted, we pulled up the car and got my luggage. Mom was only able to drop it off, and then she had to leave. I held back the tears and wanted to hug her longer. And then hug her again. I was scared. I am scared.
Drip. Drip. Click.
I want to be in my bed tonight. Not here with the clicks and the beeps and the constant dripping from bag after bag of poison.
My friends and family give me strength. Their words give me power. I have to overcome and push through the fear and conquer it. To keep looking forward. To be focused and remember the many many reasons why I need to fight. I just feel so all alone. Alone with the machine.
I know I can do this. I just need to tune out the drip.
"I will be thinking about you today. I am blessed more than you can imagine because I know you."
These words made me smile today. These powerful and sweet words. This is part of why I know I will beat this. And then go on to live and love and laugh again.
Sunshine.
Posted by debutaunt at December 14, 2005 12:21 AM | TrackBackI'll be thinking of you like so many of your other readers today. I'm willing every drip of the chemo med entering your body, surrounds the dracula blood and beats the crap out of it. Think little animated Una's in your blood beating the poo out of the lamest, nastiest, vampires from Buffy. And poof, one by one they will be gone.
I am sorry about your friends's dad, my beloved dad died in his early 70's too, it sucks. But, you are going to beat this. You have too for Zoe and all your loving family is behind you.
Love
i read this with tears in my eyes
i wish there was something i could do to help, deb, something i could say...but i doubt if any words i string together would be any comfort
all i can do is light a candle for you when i get home, and send white light your way....i shall take a picture of it for you....so that you know the power of this reaching out that you do...that you can light candles half way around the world
let's all light a candle for deb today and pray/think/meditate, whatever it is each of us does...towards her and help with our positive energy
i'll send you a picture of the candle which will burn for you here today
Posted by: Fiona at December 14, 2005 04:28 AM" I have seen my friends cry this week, and it's been difficult. I want to be brave. But my spirit is tired too. My warrior is feeling tired. Not yet defeated, but just outright tired."
Here's to finding your spirit and your warrior renewed, rested and ready to battle.
And here's to a good cry because even warrior's need to cry too.
God bless!
Posted by: C at December 14, 2005 07:32 AMDeb, you are an amazing woman and we are all so proud to know you and lucky to be able to read your words. I know this is the greatest challenge you will ever face and I also know that because you have a wonderful little girl to take care of that you'll come through this thing as strong as you ever were. God bless you - I'm saying prayers for you with every breath.
Laura
Posted by: Laura at December 14, 2005 08:51 AMWe're here, Deb, we're here. Through good and bad, we're listening and offering thoughts and prayers. You can't see us, but we are here for you and Zoe.
Be strong. And when you can't be, know that we will try to be strong for you out here in the internets.
We are thinking about you and praying for you and hoping with all of our might that you conquer this disease with strength and grace.
You can do this.
My prayers are with you today through the drips and clicks.
Posted by: CJ at December 14, 2005 09:24 AMmy candle for deb.....
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v212/Fiona-A/candlefordeb.jpg
you can do it deb
Posted by: Fiona at December 14, 2005 09:57 AMDeb,
As always, I'm thinking of you. You wrote:
"I want to be brave. But my spirit is tired too. My warrior is feeling tired. Not yet defeated, but just outright tired."
You are right, your warrior spirit is not defeated. It will never be defeated. Not yours. It's too much a part of you.
With much love,
Trish
hang in there, deb. there are more of us out here sending as much magic as we can to you and your beautiful little zoe than you can possibly imagine. there's nothing wrong with a good cry. even the toughest among us have to let it out sometimes. you ARE doing this. and you're doing a great job. keep kicking that dracula blood's ass.
Posted by: moxiemomma at December 14, 2005 11:19 AMcould you bring your own blanket next time you have to stay? would that help?
I want to hold you and hug you.
and bring you some starbucks.
Posted by: blackbird at December 14, 2005 02:52 PMOh, just thinking about all you went through yesterday makes me want to cry. You are so strong, and so brave, and you amaze me so much.
I felt blessed many years ago to know your family, and since my "discovery" a few weeks ago, I have felt that warmth all over again.
Now that I have a "clear" bill of health, can I come down to the hospital? I don't mind the sexy mask and the gown, and I will bring Starbucks. Plus anything else you might want or need.
Posted by: Christine at December 14, 2005 06:09 PMcourtesy of my flickr tutorial with Trish, i'm posting the pic again as apparently photobucket hasn't been too reliable *S* apologies for the repetition!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27778659@N00/73643874/
Posted by: Fiona at December 14, 2005 08:46 PM[...] Our lovely Debutaunt makes an appearance with her December 14th post, The Drip And The Drip and The… Re-reading this post, I found it as poignant as I did the first time I read it. [...]
Posted by: Real Cancer, Real Lives #12 at February 13, 2006 11:15 AMThank you so much for contributing this to our project...
You are in my thoughts, Deb.
–Cary