For Crying Out Loud

Yes, I feel like a major failure. I flunked my blood test again. This is the first time it has been two weeks in a row that my white blood cells were too low. Usually, one week is enough for my body to rebuild those cells, but not this time. And there is nothing I can do or eat or take to build up my white blood cells. It just takes time. The doctor will call me next week to decide if I should come in next week or just skip it.

Now for the major whine: I'm tired. Just plain tired. I don't have as much energy as I think I should. Yes, I know that it has been just over a month since my radiation ended and it can take up to a year to get it all back, but I feel discouraged.

And I am tired of smiling and saying, "Fine" when people ask me how I am. For crying out loud, I have pancreatic cancer. How do they think I am? I have good days and not so good days, but I feel one of two ways when people ask me how I am. Either they are just being polite and no more hear the answer than if they were to say, "have a nice day." Or I feel they are looking at me very closely to see how I really am, as if what they see isn't the truth, or that I am really suffering underneath, but being stoic. And maybe they are right; maybe I am. But I just want to be normal, to forget that I have a potentially deadly disease with a poor prognosis.

I'm tired of the pinch that I feel in my side all the time. It makes it difficult to ever get comfortable, to go to sleep, to forget that I had major surgery, and, well, that I have cancer.

I'm tired of the medical professional going over a list of symptoms, then when I admit to one, moving on down the list. If they don't want to address it, why do they bring it up?

I'm tired of buying a zillion different drugs, both prescription and over the counter. I feel as though I have turned into some little old lady with a million ailments. And I only get them because the doctors tell me to. And I may use them once and then there they sit, cluttering up my counter, my life.

I'm tired of taking 'neutropenic precautions.' That means staying out of crowds, especially if there are children, washing my hands as if I had OCD, and in general, admitting that I am sick. I am tired of being sick. I want to be well again, like before I got this diagnosis.

Okay, enough with the whining. On to the dangers of looking healthy. I was at the office yesterday. I share my office with a student worker. I said that I was feeling sort of in the dumps. She asked what was wrong, to which I asked if one could be depressed without a cause. She thought not, unless you were clinically depressed. I said, 'Well, I do have pancreatic cancer.' To this she said, 'Oh, I thought that was all gone.' If only it were so easy.

Thanks for listening and being here for me.

On to a more positive note. Merry advocated for me and re-arranged the budget, and generally finagled to get my position approved for full-time. She has decided to leave in January (on her birthday), so is leveraging to have at least one full-time position in place. I am very grateful for her efforts, though I wasn't too sad at the thought of some time off, even if it was without pay.