Treatment 6: Ahhh, baking soda!

I can't say that I'm enjoying this any more. I guess I never truely 'enjoyed' it, but tolerated it fine. I'm starting to lose interest.

Treatment 6. It's been said quite a bit lately, "At least it's only temporary!" Temporary cruds, temporary baldness, temporary eyelash loss, temporary swollen tongue, temporary burning hands. I find little comfort in such words, as true as they may be. Though I should qualify that there are thousands and millions of other people far worse off than I - suffering, starving, scared, lonely, grieving, hopeless, helpless. I've reminded myself many times the past few days that I must keep the end result (whatever God sees that to be) ahead of me rather than focusing on the immediate struggle. The 'whys' don't matter - I cannot begin to comprehend the 'whys' of things that happen in our world; it's 'to what end' that I need to remember. I'm writing it mostly to keep reminding myself more than to actually give new information.

I've spent more time on the couch and sleeping these past 5 days than I think I have since surgery. Is it the steroids that I'm taking to help with side-effects or is it the treatment itself? Would I be better off just dealing with the side-effects and skip the steroids? I cried at the Family Fare Pharmacy. That can't be normal. My tongue/mouth is no better off than last time, though I will say my eyelids didn't swell and I'm not sure if my hands are a little better this time, so maybe the steroids are good.

Emotionally I tell Josh not to look at me b/c I'll cry. The lady at Family Fare was telling me her breast cancer story and giving advice (which is why I cried), but it's still not a place you want to be when you fall apart. This afternoon I was crying because I always figured I'd be like my mother - always basically healthy. Then there's the struggle of 'wants': I so want to be that nurturing, warm, connected mother and wife, but at the same time I intensely want to hole away and become a hermit. ... I was telling Josh this morning that I cannot distinguish between sounds in the house: the lunch bags rustling in the kitchen are equally loud and 'important' to my brain as my dear Levi trying to tell me something 1 foot from my face. The dog walking across the floor commands as much of my mental attention as a question from Josh. I tried to make an appointment over the phone today and had to ask two or three times for the scheduler to repeat why she was calling and what she needed to schedule. Steroids or general treatment issues? We shall see.

On a funnier side, my appetite is quite interesting. Since I've got the tongue issues, keep in mind that everything I eat tastes pretty much like wax. And I do mean everything. Tonight I roasted some garlic and toasted bread with gouda cheese for a little flavor. Then I proceeded to eat the roasted garlic plain - right off my knife. Can't say I've done that before! Earlier it was a craving (at 1 a.m.) for a Whopper Jr, light mayo with all the fixings. And I've eaten so many fried egg & toasts (with more salt than usual) that I've run out of eggs - OK, so that makes a dozen, right? Ha! Anyway, it may not seem so weird, but given it all tastes like wax... I keep hoping something'll hit the spot!

I, Amanda VanTil, the non-planner, non-goal setting, non-party-throwing person wants to party with lots of food and laughter when this is all over. And then run on a warm beach. Anyone wanna join me? :)

Oh, and baking soda mouth swish is great for helping with a throbbing, nasty white tongue.