Two days left of chemo, and I am feeling something that I am not familiar with. Something I have finally been able to identify. I want to be saved.
I never, or rarely have felt this sensation. But I desperately want to be saved by some outside agent from this viciously vomitous (not a word) state. I can't even trust my own saliva or my breath not to send me into gagging fits. (I am puking as I type this with one hand.)
Rose makes everything better. She can see the end when I cannot. She buys little things that I can eat, will draw baths for me when I can't bear it (can't take showers with this apparatus) and generally not forget about me. She saves me. She's away braving the storm, taking her daughter back to her ex. I can't wait for her to get back, although I will likely be too ill to show my appreciation properly. I can barely speak as it is.
But even with this generous support, I still slip into helplessness and despair. Some people feel like this all the time. I couldn't live that way, that's for sure. Tonight, I will go to sleep early to try to bring on day four that much sooner. Then there will be only a little more than a day left when I wake up. Sadly, I will be on my own since Rose has to work. And I will want to be saved again.
If I was nearer I'd come by and help you. I couldn't save you, but at least make you feel a bit more comfortable. Unfortunately I can't help you from 5000 km away. I hope someone else can.
I think of you, however.
Thanks, mare. I appreciate that. At least it will be over in a couple of days.
I'm feeling that in this vomitous haze of misery you have made an extremely important realization. (I mean this in a nice way). *Hugs*.