This has been a rough four days. This time around Joe was plagued by the hiccups for the first couple of days, with the delightful addition of motion sickness and burning esophagus, along with nausea. He did ride his bike from and to work on Thursday and Friday, and today rode out and back to watch the Lion of Fairfax Race. Pretty tough for a guy who's mid-chemo and living with the side effects! And cute, too, as this photo amply demonstrates...
For my part, I have been, I will admit, a crabby bitch. I resist taking sleeping pills or anti-anxiety stuff at bedtime, only then to lay awake for hours at night, stomach grinding, which sets me up for a migraine and aforementioned crabbiness. Stupid! Joe tries not to complain, but he has genuine complaints and needs support. I sometimes hit a wall with the misery show, and I'm not the nicest nurse on the planet. Yes, we are perfect in our imperfection.
So this is what I mean by The Grind: the debilitating effects of the chemo on Joe, the Groundhog Day feel of this (oh no, not this again), the appearance of new unpleasant symptoms, the sorrow we both feel that his eyebrows are going now, the difficulty in remembering that it won't always be like this. Ugh, really, just the opposite of fun. So very easy to fall into a hole about it.
Which is probably why we were both so excited today to get the letter from Joe's doctor stating that he "may derive benefit from the use of medicinal marijuana." If nothing else, we'll have a new experience, check out the pot club scene in Fairfax (hurray, more blog-fodder), maybe come away with another way to deal with the anxiety and sheer boredom of feeling crappy.
I am grateful every second for the love of family and friends through this. If we had to be in this hole by ourselves, it would really suck, but anytime we need one, and even when we forget we do, a hand appears to haul us out of the misery and remind us both that this is so temporary and will be so worth it when we're done.