Self-aware. Self conscious. Self induced.

“Sick” and sicker

I got sick three times last year. I generally think of myself as a healthy person, but I’d get a sinus infection one day that would become a cold in 24 hours that would knock me down for three weeks. So I started going in for antibiotics, which I’m not really thrilled about as they’re rather hard on the body, nor do I relish the thought of creating antibiotic resistant critters in my own system. But the short term triumphs, and here I am again, nearly summer, on antibiotics again.

I’m also taking Mucinex (or a knock-off, I can’t remember), for obvious reasons. I’m taking vitamin D supplements. I’m taking probiotics to counteract some of the effects of the prescription meds.

I don’t suffer a lot in the way of obvious side effects. I don’t have to deal with diarrhea (hooray hooray hooray). I do have an upset stomach most of the time. I’m either uncomfortable because I’m hungry or I’m uncomfortable because there’s food in my stomach. Discomfort is really about the strongest word I’d use though. It’s not a horrible thing. And for that matter, this is largely how I felt at the Prague Fringe Festival our first full week, with no meds to worry about at all.

I’m going up to see Anthony next week. Anthony takes upwards of twenty pills every day, and that’s when he’s not on chemo. Anti-seizure. Anti-depression. Drugs to counter the side effects of the important drugs he’s taking to deal with whatever aspect of the tumor they’re supposed to address.

He’s got a brain tumor and I can’t even imagine inhabiting his physical body. I can see the tremors in his hands and the twitches in his face. I’ve been getting so tired at night lately that I can’t read, because I can’t focus on words. I can do a sudoku because the boxes are big, unless my brain turns to mush.

I try and imagine some of those symptoms of Tired when I think about getting through the day with a tumor and nearly 20 super-strong prescription meds. Because all I’ve got, neither of which you can see, is a cold and a bellyache.

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One response

  1. “…all I’ve got, neither of which you can see, is a cold and a bellyache.” A bad bellyache and cold are better than a “good” tumor any day.

    It’s o.k. to feel crumby about “minor” ailments even though others suffer far greater. I still get hungry, even though I know others are starving. What’s important is that you’re “aware.”

    Feel better soon.

    June 15, 2010 at 6:26 pm

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