I've been taking Lortab almost every day for pain: mouth sores, heartburn, gastric cramps, aching joints, a back that's giving out. Last night I had such severe stomach cramps I couldn't stand up. I was bolting to the bathroom every five minutes. Finally I vomited twice and felt a bit better. I had to take two Phenergans to fall asleep. It's been rough.
And at the same time, the vultures are starting to circle around my house. Naturally people are eager to profit from my misfortune. I'm being pressured to "show" the house for realtors. But I don't have the energy to clean up, and I can't stand the thought of my privacy being invaded when I'm sick like this. I need my house to be my refuge right now.
I dread the looming inevitability of strangers trooping through my rooms with little warning, peering into my closets and at my belongings. My dogs and I will be forced to vacate the premises. Where will we go? I don't know, I guess we'll huddle in the car at the Wal-Mart parking lot, praying to the fickle Universe that neither they nor I have any urgent intestinal distress during our exile.
I'm probably going to cut my chemo short, from the recommended eight sessions down to six. I can't find any evidence that the benefits of eight outweigh the risks, or even that there are any benefits. There is some evidence that whatever cancer cells remain after six treatments are probably recalcitrant anyway. And if the vultures hone in any faster, I may be forced to cut back to five. Or even four.
You know, this isn't the direction I had hoped my life would take.