The drugs could be keeping me from this needed slumber. They do keep me jittery. But what really keeps me from sleeping is sleeping. Or really, the attempt at it. When you go to bed, you are, in essence, giving in to your body. That is counter-intuitive to anyone on chemo.
I spent the last three days ignoring my body. If I listened to it, I would be in the toilet puking or taking a hammer to my head to get rid of the headaches. There is the battle with cancer that seems to be well-documented if not a little cheesy. One of my friends thinks it's a little gay and he may be right.
There is also a battle with chemo. And that war is over your body. Your mind can control the nausea and whatever else comes along by ignoring these things and staying busy. I go online, watch TV, do a crossword, talk to people, write a haiku. Okay, I don't write haikus. That would indeed be cheesy. I don't even think I spelled it correctly. I stay away from letting my body tell me anything. It's like being at a party with your wife and she wants to leave and you don't want to so you just don't let her tell you. You avoid her and stuff. Guys, you know.
This is what keeps you seeming normal and okay through the day. Of course, there are also the activities to avoid. After fourteen chemo treatments, I got that down. I don't read. Can't read books. I stay away from the really cool iPod my friend David and his sister got me until I can handle it. I don't look in the mirror too long, which is sort of a bummer because I enjoy admiring my pects and abs (comepletely hairless, once again, ladies...). I don't eat hamburgers. One of the first times I had chemo, I ate a hamburger. That's a big no-no. Never eat anything while you're getting chemo. It will make you sick with even the thought of it. I knew that but darn it all, I was hungry. And I thought, "What can I have that's really bad for me? That way I'll never want something that's really bad for me ever again." I chose hamburgers. Haven't eaten a hamburger in about two years. I cringe every time I go by a Wendy's or McDiddies and let me tell you, there are a lot of those down here in scenic Houston.
Actually, I try to keep something in my belly at all times. Can't have an empty stomach. So that picture you saw of me yesterday wasn't of the midsection variety. If it was, it would have been ugly--although ladies, I am hairless. One again, control yourselves while you imagine me hairless.
Still, sleeping is something I haven't figured out. I only go when my body says, "Hey. Dufus. It's ah...three thrity? You gonna play online poker all night?" So I look at my bed with the same dread and forboding that many insomniacs do. It's just not the place to go. If only my body could understand this. But even though it has ears, a body doesn't listen. It's the drunk husband at the party who is ignoring his wife, who is holding the coats and waiting to leave.
Enclosed is a picture of a pig.