Saturday, March 10, 2012

Puked up my Perfect Prescription balance

Throwing up right after taking the bedtime meds is not the start of a restful night.

I hate throwing up. I usually don't ralph once in a year, so full-on power puking twice in a month is unheard of, unpleasant, and definately unwanted.

Last night I had a nauseous tummy that felt like it needed to be voided, and I even went to bed with a bucket by my side, just to be prepared. Tonight the icky tummy was back, and I thought how this could quickly get old, if endured on a nightly basis.

I had already taken prescriptions of which I keep careful track, and I doubt they'd had time to make their way to my bloodstream when up it came, dinner and all. So my pain killers and leg calmers and muscle relaxers and sleep inspirers were not where they should have been when bedtime called.

I tossed and fidgeted for over two hours. Careful fidgeting, as I am now in the vulnerable position of lying down, where a wrong or hasty move can cause pain, spasms or lock-up, and mental fidgeting, worrying and wondering if sleep will come.

And the depression starts to set in.

When the most all encompassing need, next to pain relief, is getting through that next bathroom trip without tears, swear words and further (what feels like) breaking bones and shredding muscle, the bigger picture is somewhat shrouded. When the most basic of human functions are once again becoming basic and easily achievable, the shroud lifts and bigger worries close in. I'm not completely helpless, but far from functional and able. I rely a lot on family member and friends. How long can this go on? My cash stash is dwindling fast, thanks to that funds-sucking foray into the nightmare they call a medical center, and I fear I may barely be able to squirrel away to cover another such future emergency, pay for the radiology treatments I hope are deemed potentially helpful to my pain situation, still replace the non-working toilet in my room and come up with a workable sleep surface of my own for the long haul.

Deeper still is the fear-based depression about getting through this Stage IV diagnoses to the point where I am Red-Rovered over to the other side, for painless rest and reprieve. I am okay with that part. I thought I was okay with the last days part, where they use all in their arsenal to make you rest pain free while waiting for you name to be called. What I'm not okay with are the possibly long drawn out median days, where the medium-to-big guns available at this stage often are nothing more than soft-pellet plastic pistols in their efficacy to me, leaving me to doubt that there really are big guns left in the Rx armory to get me comfortably through my end of life. But the biggest fear of all right now is that these median days of poorly addressed pain and discomfort last for years before I get to the end, the six months to go and NOW hospice can help you and hope to heaven they really do have a secret weapon, held back to fulfill that promise of dying in as little discomfort and pain as possible.

So what must I do to get through this NOW time, which could stretch on and on, so long as the cancer stays on my bones, where where it can continue to break, fracture, weaken, press on nerves, cause excruciating pain because it won't kill you from the bones but can wreak a lot of havoc?
I know, everyone's situation is different, everyone's motivation for enduring is diverse. This is where I am with my life and my need to proceed.

Since the vogue currently seems, for which I did not get the memo, to be to end a post with open-ended questions or seeds for discussion,
does anyone (of the three people still reading) have any tips regarding the regurgitation of one's Rx regime?
What plans do you have in place for the median days, while the end and hospice intervention could still be years off, when life is no where near functional or comfortable?


Anonymous said...

Wish i had something brilliant to add. So sorry about the puking and everything that more than fricking sucks.
One of my fears is barfing up my pills at night...
Nothing, i got nothing. But am glad,so glad, you're here. Don't go before me!
Well written,stated so painfully snd clearly...

yvonne said...

I am so very sorry that this horrible, unrelenting disease has been visited upon you. And I am still reading - you are not alone here .