I followed the link in today’s Daily Prompt and it refers to a daily prompt from 2013. I was not blogging in 2013, I was probably off romping with roleplayers writing stories for Guild Wars 2, so I’m clueless as to what this is referring to.
But I digress. Yes, I do remember keeping a dream diary and writing in it first thing in the morning. I was like, 26 years old. I’m 59 now. Now I wake up to dog burps and farts in my face.
The first thing on my mind this morning was rearranging of something that I was dreaming about. Maybe it was the icicles hanging off my roof that are gradually crashing down onto the ground, anxious for some unsuspecting curious creature to impale to an untimely death.
Yesterday I realized Pup wasn’t in his usual sleeping spots, so I went around looking for him and found him on top of the clothes in the laundry room. That’s where he goes when he’s afraid of something. I think it was the crashing of the chipmunk impalers that scared him. The sound of them crashing to the ground is like a part of the house is falling off.
We’re expecting three more snowstorms over the coming days, but today you wouldn’t know it. The sun is shining as though it doesn’t know it’s still winter. Pup and I should have a spectacular hike.
I had my annual oncology appointment yesterday and, in the interest of transparency, I told my doctor that I was smoking medical marijuana. He wasn’t shocked at all. He said that because there’s not much research on it, he would recommend edibles instead of smoking it. I dislike edibles because you don’t really have control over how much you’re ingesting, and it looks like they have a shelf life. I really need to do more research into edibles. In Colorado, they’re just wrapped up in wax paper with no indication on how much to eat. I found that if I over-eat, I get really sick and headachy. I just don’t like edibles at all. With smoking I get immediate feedback and it’s self-limiting in that it’s impossible to do too much when you’re smoking. The only downside is that you have to inhale it. I should be a good girl and use the vaporizers I have, but they seem to use up 5 times more pot, since you have to fill fairly large containers to use them. With straight smoking, a pinch does just fine.
“The danger with smoking,” he said, “is that we just don’t know what the impact will be 10 years down the line. It may be perfectly safe, it may not. That’s all I can tell you as far as suggestions.”
“But at 59, with stage 3 cancer, I don’t feel like I have ten years, I only care about the quality of life I have today. It’s helping me exercise more, do yoga, meditate, and blog, and helping my marriage.”
“There you go, then keep doing it,” he said as he typed notes into his computer. “And as far as being stage 4, don’t worry about it. You’d be surprised at how long we can keep people alive now.”
I didn’t tell him that being kept alive on chemotherapy and radiation treatments is not living. I kept that cynical thought to myself.
However he did say something interesting when I blamed my cancer for my depression and anxiety issues. He said “PTSD is a common reaction to cancer treatments, so I don’t think it’s chemical changes in your brain, I think you have a form of PTSD”.
Let me explain to you how much fun chemotherapy is. Do you remember when you got ripping drunk on some drink, and then for the rest of your life you couldn’t stand the smell of the stuff? Chemotherapy is like getting an unbelievably horrible hangover from a drink and then, in spite of being repulsed by it (ie, just the thought of it makes you heave), you have to go back 3 weeks later for some nurse dressed in Hazmat gear to force more of that liquid into your veins for another hangover experience. And, boy, you’d take dying any day over that because you know that at some level it’s killing you already. Not only does your hair fall out, but your taste buds get burnt out so everything you eat tastes like metal — even the water you’re supposed to drink that’s supposed to help flush your system tastes like shit. Your nails turn black and fall off. People who don’t know your delicate situation cough and hack all over you and compromise your immune system.
So maybe he’s right, I have PTSD, who knows. It’s not obvious to me, though. I don’t get flashbacks. I’d rather think my “chemobrain”, as we call the fuzziness in the head from chemo, has never disappeared and that I have something organic going on in my head.
Anyway, this blog entry is the closest thing to writing down my first thoughts this morning – icicles (or was it dog farts) – so what the hell, let’s say it self-answered the prompt.
Remember when you wrote down the first thought you had this morning? Great. Now write a post about it.