I should have remembered. I was a fool to forget.
You just can’t properly prepare yourself for the impact that a prolonged stay in hospital coupled with high dose chemotherapy has on your physical and mental state.
It’s not like I’ve not been here before. But time plays tricks on the mind. And hope defeats realism as you cross your fingers for a better experience this time round.
But it’s all come flooding back, and yes, I’m a fool to have thought it would be any different.
I can’t believe that’s only four days down. Seems like an eternity.
The drugs have made me really, really edgy and even my normally reliable anti-anxiety tablets are having little effect.
I think it’s the hydrocortisone I’m getting to counter side effects from Cytarabine that might be the culprit so we’ll ease off on them tonight.
I’m also right off my food.
Now on one level that’s no bad thing, given I weighed into to hospital a few pounds over fighting weight.
But it’s the underlying nausea-lite that’s really annoying, the fact that just thinking about food – something I do every 4.7 seconds – can make me want to throw up. And that’s nothing on what happens when the wonderful hospital cuisine arrives…
My other big issue is that I just can’t get comfy.
In my room I have one standard NHS bed, one padded chair, and two visitors’ chairs. I also have one small table (the ones that go over your bed). And it doesn’t matter where I sit or lie, I just can’t get comfortable.
All of this means that I just want to spend as much time as feasibly possible trying to sleep as that at least means that time is passing and I. Ugh actually have a good dream about food!
On a more positive note, I did get a nice FaceTime call from the girls tonight and a very close up view of Olivia’s gummy smile, having lost another tooth today. Hopefully the tooth fairy doesn’t need daddy to be at home to deliver.