Levels of Whelm

overwhelmed

Hello again.  Did you miss me?  You just knew that I could not shut up for long though, didn’t you?  It appears I need this blog more than I thought.  Recently I have read a couple of other blog posts (here and here) on post treatment life which greatly encouraged me.  I am not alone and that is really rather lovely.  Thank you Sue & Laura ❤

I have decided this Return to ‘Normal’ Life is overrated.  I seem to run better at the 2.3 miles per hour life on the canal afforded me.  Since arriving back on dry land exactly 2 weeks ago I have been brought face to face with just how knackering everyday life is.  Granted I have had my Mum with me since she has been recovering from cataract surgery.  And that has involved trips to and from Oopnorthshire a couple of times.  But even so.

Life post chemo/cancer treatment should not be about constantly avoiding one weepy outburst or another.  And yet that is what seems to be happening of late.  I am only ever one tissue away from becoming totally overwhelmed.  I know this means I am too tired but managing that is not something I am doing very well at.  Apologies to all and any who have been on the receiving end of one of my episodes.  I think, basically, I should not be allowed out.  Or allowed in.  I think I should probably be confined in a darkened room, though that is worryingly appealing …

Thanks to Exemestane, every night’s sleep is broken multiple times which makes me think I never sleep deeply.  Then again, it may not be the drugs, it may simply be good ol’ chemo fatigue.  I career from one obligation to another without ever really feeling that I cope with any of them.  I can control a certain amount of stuff, but not the relentlessness with which the unexpected occurs.  I seem to only have the energy to cope with a crawling hand to mouth existence when really I would like to soar.

One day, maybe, perhaps.

I should add: I have a friend.  He was receiving treatment for cancer a few years ago when I first met him.  He experienced all sorts of knackeredness for some time after his treatment ended.  This summer at an event we both attended, while I was snoozing in my bed, he was strutting his funky stuff all over the dance floor.  He is my Ray of Sunshine and gives me hope.

 

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