I made it through yesterday, somehow. Most of the day went by in a foggy, nauseated way. I don't know how much of it was real or not. I at least feel like I am in my brain today.
The feeding tube has been the biggest pain in the butt so far. Yesterday I was at the point of wanting to rip it out myself. Alex talked me off the edge and I started taking Amoxycillian. The doctor wanted me to have it on hand just in case it started to get infected. I don't know that it is infected but it feels much better after about 3 or 4 doses. I feel like I could handle the nausea better if I didn't have a physical tube actually coming through my stomach. It's just pretty disgusting all around. It makes me lose my appetite. Oh, well.
I am so grateful for all the support everyone is giving me through this. I know we are just getting started with all the treatments and needing to ask for help but I am overwhelmed by every one's generosity all ready. Yvonne heard of a website to help get people together on stuff like this to help manage all the help. So we don't have 3 dinners showing up in one night and then none for a week. Part of what is weird is my taste keep changing. I know it's due to the radiation right ON my tongue. But it's odd that it can change within an hour. Like I was drinking a fresh bottle of water, and could have sworn it was Gatorade. Yesterday, sweet tea tasted like heaven and now it is bitter. Odd.
I think I need to go back and re-read the beginning of my blog. It started out as a therapy for dealing with Amy's strokes and the possibility I could lose her. Never did I think in 2 years, that it would be flipped on me, writing as therapy of facing my own mortality. I know I'm going to beat this. I feel it all the way as deep as I can feel it. But at the same time, you can't face something like this square on if you don't face all the scary possibilities of what might come.
Oh, by the way. Did I mention I hate this feeding tube?