Well, it feels that way a lot of the time. Especially at night. I put off blogging my feelings, even though this blog is about how it feels, fearing that my blog will devolve into a whining journal. If I look at the blog as just for me, a place to vent and dump emotions, then I guess I'm okay.
My tumor markers continue to rise, the CEA having crept toward 40 in the months we gave Faslodex to work , then 70 and now over 100. I've been on Tamoxifen now for less than two months; only a month at my last blood work, too soon to see results. Two months will probably be too soon as well, but I think I will not be able to avoid being hopeful.
I continue on Zometa, and send strong thoughts to my vertebrae, hoping against the odds that the degeneration of my spine can be halted.
I've come to the conclusion that the pain meds I take are responsible for painfully morose mood swings. I had tried cutting back and after weeks of uncontrollable sobbing, it came to me after much prayer that it could be a dependence issue. I went back to my previous dose and the crying jags subsided. Thank goodness, but I don't like the idea of it. I want to taper down more slowly, until I can get off completely, and use something else, which probably wont be as effective. Perhaps pain levels will not allow this. I don't know.
I've taken to using the walker instead of canes. I need the support and stability. Of course I hate my nursing home basic model walker, the kind you generally see with tennis balls at the ends of the legs. I refuse the tennis balls this time around. This kind of walker isn't really for indoor/outdoor, and rough surfaces can be difficult, not to mention hard on the caps on the legs. I've mentally accepted that the walker is probably my new norm, so I'm hoping soon to get one with all wheels, no legs, and hand-brakes. I'm leaning toward one of the three-wheeled models. Saving my pennies.
The car had problems this month, and long story short, ended up needing a new alternator. Ouch. But it could have been worse; at least the car is back in commission. Financial help came from an unexpected source and made it hurt less. I am so grateful for that assistance and thoughtfulness.
I'm typing this on my phone, which takes about four times as long, and I realized that I've only just made it through prefacing remarks and catch-up. I've not even begun rambling on about pain and death, and everything encompassing those topics in my life. Then there are the feelings of loneliness, helplessness, uselessness and ineffectiveness. I was going to try going to bed early tonight, but thumb-typing has drawn it out to the regular up-too-late bedtime that has my daytime schedule skewed.
I didn't solve anything or author any wisdom, but I feel oddly comforted by this sharing time with my smart phone.