Dreamwalking

This week has been a little strange. Not in what has happened but in how I am feeling. I feel as if I am just drifting through life; there’s a sense of unreality inside my head. I don’t know if this is a reaction to my cancer or a side effect from the chemo. It’s hard to explain. I seem to be on auto-pilot much of the time as if I have no control over changing course. Oh, I am having such a hard time describing this! Sometimes I find myself sitting at the computer just staring at the screen with no idea what I was aiming to do. Other times I will think about something I need to look up but as soon as I sit at the computer, my brain goes blank. I don’t like the feeling of not being in control of my brain and my mind. It seems easier to drift right now than to exert the energy to do something else. This waking dream world is what it is, and I don’t seem to realize that it is a dream world sometimes.

I am now three months out from my diagnosis, and I’m used to when and how the chemo side effects will hit me. But I’m tired of organizing my life around the side effects. As I wrote in a previous post, I can understand why people stop chemo. It’s a struggle to stay positive some days; other days I don’t have to think about being positive – I just am. I know this is an emotional roller coaster for me and for my partner. He is my rock through all of this. He makes sure I take my medicine when I’m supposed to. And he’s always checking that I’m okay if I get up in the middle of the night. He takes care of the dogs, the cooking, the cleaning, and everything else that goes along with keeping a household running.

I hold on to the thought that I can beat this; that the chemo is working; that the cancer is retreating. Even in my dreamwalking, I am aware of that nasty growth in my body that is trying to strangle the life out of me. And in those times, I try to visualize the tumors retreating and vaporizing into nothingness. It’s only fair; that’s what they are trying to do to me.

I take strength from not only my community of friends, but also the community of lung cancer survivors to which I now belong. Some are still fighting, some have lost the fight, and some have won the fight. But the fight is never really over; we will have to be vigilant for the rest of our lives lest the beast returns to make us fight again.

 

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16 thoughts on “Dreamwalking

  1. camp2go says:

    I like your choice of words; dream walking. You’ve explained it so well, and I can feel with you. Whatever the reason, …go with the flow… and just walk to the forever healing place. You are so often on my mind.

  2. I can so relate to most you have written – especially the part re your partner. Since the life altering surgery I experienced June 5 last year, well actually since Jan 31 with first surgery, my Stephen has taken over every thing. I have him comment more than once to someone, “You don’t know how much your wife (or partner) does until you have to do it all.” Then there’s the “brain fog” – that’s what I call it. You are so strong and vigilant…I just know you will vaporize those tumors and win. Many of us are seeing the same for you! Keep pressing onward!

  3. saundragoodman says:

    I cannot relate to having anyone help me during a crisis of any kind, for any length of time. I’ve been alone so long and handled everything myself. I drove myself to the hospital with a concussion and fingerprints on my throat from being strangled and getting knocked down in the process. Now there are times I can’t walk, or do errands, or even stand with this ridiculous pain I live with that has changed my life the last 10 years. I know how hard it must be for you to deal with this obscene change after living a life fairly free from debilitating health problems. Sometimes drifting away saves us from our deepest, scariest fears.

  4. Iva Pokorny says:

    I loved dreamwalking with you. I usually enjoy my mind fog days now that I am retired. And no kids live at home anymore. It is ok not have control. We actually never have control over our lives .. ever. If you really think about it.

  5. You have a wonderful partner, Ruth. I totally understand your dreamwalking situation through your writing and have felt this way before as well (though my situation was certainly nowhere near yours). Sending you love and hugs today xxx

  6. You say it’s hard to explain, but I think you’ve explained it perfectly. I hope you keep winning the fight. I also hope you’ll continue to write about that fight with clarity and insight. I’m sure it helps others realize that they’re not alone.

  7. Thank you – that’s my intent. If it helps only one other person, that’s wonderful. 🙂

    And writing about it helps me to not be so frustrated and helps me put it into perspective.

Ruth passed away from cancer. Please remove from list

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