it was the week that was

Here’s the week in a nutshell:

Monday: home with Zoe on our days off from school. Nursing my back since I fell on the ice in the driveway on Saturday, but not thinking it’s anything dramatic.

Tuesday: get a CAT scan. Have lunch with my brother while I have chemo. Sit in a chair for much of the day while getting treatments of one type or other.

Tuesday night/Wednesday morning: 1 a.m. Oh my word, my back hurts so much I can’t move. Perhaps I can just lightly fall out of bed so as not to wake Mark while I crawl through the house in search of painkillers. No light falling? OK, then I will slide slowly. No, not that either. OK, great force of will then sideways down the steps takes ten minutes to find no painkillers in the kitchen either. Lie on living room floor for a while wondering what to do. Inch back to bed, unsure why since pain is… OK, you get the picture.

Wednesday: 9 a.m. Mark brings me to ER. No broken bones. Lots of painkillers until I am myself again. Do get the lovely experience of trying to transfer from gurney to gurney for x-ray while in excruciating pain and trying to remain pleasant. Morphine and another IV and some Vicodin and I’m happy.

Thursday: All day in bed on painkillers nursing back waiting for oncology visit. 3:30 oncology visit learn that: lung mets are stable (good news), but spot on liver that was noticed in July has gotten bigger (not good news). So, I’ll need a CAT scan in 5 weeks to see what’s up with the liver. If there is a spot there, we may be able to radio-ablate (“zap”) it rather easily. Rather. Make the round of phone calls that needs to be made after such a visit and wish I could talk to my mom and dad who are en route home from Vietnam.

Friday: Get Zoe off to school and wonder if I should just stay in my Vicodin haze or actually try to make a go of the day. Opt for bed and my friend the heating pad on my back. Phone rings a lot. Friend, Sara, says on my answering machine, “OK, I’m coming over.” This means I will need to get out of bed. So we sit in my living room. We cry. We drink lattes. We cry. We laugh. We talk about plastic surgery and celebrities. We calculate how many hours it will be until my parents are home. And slowly I come back to myself and am no longer feeling like I’d like to seep into the cracks of the floor boards and disappear. This is a small but crucial victory.

Now: I’m taking plenty of pain meds, but laying off the Vicodin during the day. I’m feeling OK about the liver thing and just want the test over with to know what happens next. I’m reminding myself of the decision I made almost 4 years ago, “Well, Tash, you’re not going to die of cancer today, so what should you do instead?”

Today that meant hanging out with some of my favorite people.

I hope it always means that.

And I hope I don’t have another week like this one for a long, long time.

9 replies on “it was the week that was”

oh my.
oh my soul.
oh my soul, friend!
what a week! i am so sorry to hear that you were in so much pain and now something hangs in the back of your mind.
you are back at the top of the prayer list.
love you lots.
i called you about sunday.
we can put it on the back burner if you’d like, or i could bring food to you house if you are up for company.
just so the word.
hugs and kisses to you.

Sounds like the best part of this week is the fact that it’s over.

Thanks for writing about it, though; your mom’s absence makes the old DMU–my usual source for info about you–run a little slowly. I’ll continue to pray for your strength and recovery.

oh oh – sweet Tash. i can’t believe i saw you in church today. (make sure your parents read that.) we will be praying for you – as always, especially in the anxiety-filled coming weeks. hope the vicodin does its magic.
love you, anne

thankful your friends & family know just what to say n do, exactly when it’s needed. (and, that you’re the practical, tenacious Tasha).

Dear Beloved Brown-eyed Girl, May “the week that was” stay that way– FOREVER in the PAST!
Praying for some sunshine in the clouds; it’s time.
Love you!

Dear Tasha – Our prayers are with you at this time of turmoil in your life. Praise God for close friends that can help change perspectives. As the Bible says in Daniel : “Don’t be afraid for you are very precious to God. Peace! Be encouraged! Be strong!”
Love you from all of us Okies!

Not a lot of good words, just good thoughts for you. Visualizing your good health, dear friend. Love you. K

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