Sunday, February 3, 2013

Superbowl, Schmooperbowl. Where's my titty at??

Yeah. I'm apathetic.

Actually, I was supposed to be there - but the contract sucked butt. And I couldn't fulfill it given my medical malarky. I'm actually thrilled though - it would have turned my life upside down, and with my daughter at 11 and becoming a really hormonal insane bundle of joy at times, and stubborn moodiness at others, I can't go away for too long. And I can't turn my life upside down and be someone's puppet.

So, today, I am feeling like the top of my foobie is contracting. Like, it's saying Fuck You, Bitch - in it's own special way. I feel twitching. Is it the burned skin? I almost feel like there is a little dude living inside, trying to get out. Perhaps like in the movies, when one gets stuffed into the trunk of a car - they find a way to stick their hand out and wave to let drivers know that there is a GODDAMMED PERSON IN THE TRUNK OF AN INSANE PERSON'S CAR!!! Some little thing is swimming around in my Age of Aquarium, trying to bust a move.

I haven't been able to sleep well since radiation started. Really, since diagnosis, but each level has it's own dysfunction in sleep. So doc prescribed Ambien at the lowest dose. Ever. I finally got to the drug store to pick it up. $10 copay. Again, thank goodness for insurance. Otherwise, I'd be knocking myself out with a bottle of wine and melatonin pills, and I still wouldn't sleep.  I popped one just now. It's only 7:40, but I need to have my flabby ass out of bed before 7am, and if this stuff truly knocks me out, I'll never want to get up. Ever. Because I'm sleep deprived since August. It's fucking February. That's half a year. Is the year half empty or half full? Who gives a crap. I can't see straight or complete a sentence without sounding like an idiot. Today, I was talking to my girl about what to do for Valentines day for hubby. I called it Thanksgiving and had NO idea that I said the wrong holiday. We laughed thinking about me buying a turkey for the special day. Hey, cranberries are red.

Later, she said something odd, and said that maybe she was catching my radiation brain. Please, child, do not catch Mom's laser induced stupidity. Someone has to be able to think around here, and it sure as hell ain't me.

Science projects. We started one - she gets to do 2 a trimester. Today, we started a rock candy thing. Like the child needs sugar... but I wanted her to be motivated. Sometimes, she wants me to spoon feed her everything, and I just let her work. I hope it makes the damned candy, but if not we have time to figure out another project.

But for #2 - I had the idea to let her come to a radiation session. I go before school, she'd be a bit late for her first class (and she is NOT crying about that!) but I'm going to ask the doc and techies if it's cool. I did get the ok for her to come, but I want her to be able to interview them too. Sure beats the invisible ink trick! (Ok, we did that one last trimester).

I'm trying to keep my brain moving by playing "words with friends". Sometimes I do surprisingly well, sometimes I look at the easiest stuff right in front of my face, and I can't even make sense of the letters. God... 8 more treatments. I'm a disaster. And on top of it all, I'm HORMONAL! PMS officially starts tomorrow, by my app, but tonight I consumed at least double my calories. I felt full but kept chowing. That's how my hormones work, but also - I'm constantly running on fumes and my body just craves calories. That's one reason I hope this ambien kicks my ass just enough to rest at night. I can not handle being a zombie all day, though nothing would be much different, right?

Ok, off to watch some Breaking Bad. Maybe that's too heavy for my head tonight. Is Beverly Hills 90210 on Netflix?

UPDATE! It's 9:15 and I don't feel shit. Ambien, Schmambien.

No comments:

Post a Comment