I’m not quite Lambert, because I roar. I’m a blowhard!
*This was written over the course of two weeks.*
I’ll explain, Reader-land. There comes a point when even if there were some magical treatment that would extend my life, I would seriously have to be convinced to get it. I’m tired. I can’t explain it better than that. I’m weary of the daily pains. And we have moved to palliative care because nighttime is terrible and Mel is suffering.
So much so that a person who I imagine would prefer to remain nameless came over to deal with my nighttime repositioning so that Mel could get a decent amount of sleep! To said person, thank you.
Then there are the painkillers. Reader-land, I have begun more intense painkillers at night, except I haven’t. I had a very low dose and felt nauseous and cloudy and then hungover the whole next day, and it didn’t even get all the pain! It’s like I can’t make up my mind!
So let’s break this down. I am not sleeping well so I need more powerful meds that make me feel terrible. I need something to stop the nasal drainage, but my mouth and throat are too dry. I have difficulty with bathroom, but now have to be near a bathroom just in case. (Fool Mel five times…) I want to have real food, but I now have massive gas. I want to type but I don’t know how to hold my head up. I am having problems breathing but I’m more afraid of the hospital. Everything is a paradox!
Even writing this is a paradox. I’m complaining about my suffering and whining, but I want to go to heaven and all the saints don’t complain and whine. Every single time I write about stuff.
I’m in a funk of my own making. I’m not praying, but I am so afraid of hell that I should be scared straight. But I’m not.
We all know people who throw out excuse after excuse to every solution to a problem, and I feel like I’m doing this. Just now I broke down in tears when the nurse suggested the hospital because I am terrified of the hospital. They can’t understand me and I will panic at being alone. Do you see how I’m trapped? Paralyzed by very real fear?
But I talk a big game. When the chips are down, I forget what I have said.