First round of chemo is done and over with and I will sing all praises to my saint of a husband who rarely if at all complained about feeling like crap. The routine of chemo goes as such:
Monday- wake up feeling great, drive to the hospital where I will sit for the next 6 1/2 hours getting pumped full of life saving poison. My butt will start to hurt, my legs will begin to ache but as a whole my general disposition will be only mildly grumpy.
Tuesday- wake up feeling like I have the flu, just blah all over. I'll create a new rendition of Achy Breaky Heart, but it will be called My Achy Breaky Legs and I will complain about such achy breaky legs all stinkin' day long. My general disposition will quickly decline to a perpetual state of pure grumpiness. The pump that continues to administer the lovely chemo will become my
Wednesday- I will awaken to such achy breaky legs feeling much much better, and in that brief moment feel the sensation of... gasp... Happiness! Only to have it crushed by the pit of my stomach churning in a fit of nausea, oh joy. With such nausea, the return of Grumpy McGrumpypants will ensure that my day is right on track.... Grumpy. I will take a prescribed anti-nausea drug, a fabulous drug that works Yet, doesn't work since all I can do the remainder of the day is sleep, grumpily sleep. During this day of grumpily sleeping I will have a brief moment of happiness as I travel back to such hospital to have the pump removed and loose my
All attempts to brighten my days are quickly thwarted by the desire to drink cold drinks, lets be honest Sonic Coke with Lemon but the burning sensation in my mouth when I attempt such brightening is far to uncomfortable......grumpy. Any smiling I do, any laughing I do, all happiness seems to be squelched by the case of the grumpiness. So just ignore the woman with the grumpy face, the mom scolding her daughter for getting sick again, the nagging mom asking for the billionth time "Have you studied for that blasted ACT yet" That's just Grumpy McGrumpypants, she's only here for 6 months, she's not staying I promise, my kids sure hope she's not staying, I hope she's not staying.
And for the record, I'm just trying to keep it real. My next entry could introduce Bi-Polar Becky and her happy delusions of grandeur. Yep, it's gonna be a fun 6 months in Summersville.