Surprise, surprise...

I'm Blaming the Wrong Culprit!

 

 

I was under the impression that the Neulasta was causing all the pain in my bones after chemotherapy and that the Taxotere and Carboplatin were causing the brain fog/confusion, loss of appetite/taste. I was wrong - I'm getting used to being wrong when it comes to what's happening to my body. I didn't get the Neulasta last Friday. I wasn't happy about it because it leaves me vulnerable to bacteria and fungus infections but, I saw the 'silver cloud' - no excruciating bone pain! Well, right now, I am in terrible pain. I have been since late Saturday. The bone pain is from the Carboplatin. My confusion/brain fog, evidently, was motivated by the Neulasta. So far, no rash or red bumps. But, another week will tell us for sure.

 

I spent the entire weekend dealing with an anxiety that stemmed from not getting the Neulasta and subsequently being denied for SSI and Social Security Disability (yes, strange system) which means my options for staying home vs. going to work are cut in half. I struggled with feeling unimportant; Joe never got the brakes fixed before he left town again. I don't have his car to use while he is away. The car would be one, small relief. The drive to work, through LA traffic, is stressful. I drive a car that is 20 years old and doesn't feel safe; constant drain on the oil, knocking and pinging from the engine, chortling and stalling, clutch slippage and, nearly, bald tires. Everything in the Saturn is broken!! It smells like an old car when you turn on the air. The lining on the roof is barely there. I am emotionally attached to the Saturn for many reasons but, I don't feel safe. Joe knows what's going on with the car and doesn't offer to let me use his new Explorer or to get the almost new Explorer in the garage fixed. Any other time (other then now) I would be okay with his decision to not help me. I would work overtime to get that car fixed. Right now the car issue is killing me just because it tells me how much Joe doesn't think about how he could help me get through this. He only knows there is no 'I' in team and he doesn't like that. He only wants the 'I'. I have never met anyone that won't put a moment's thought into another person. I prayed a lot this weekend to clear my heart of those resentful and wounded feelings. I prayed that God would give me peace about my situation at work. Whether my health allows me to stay or to not stay, I prayed that I would be at peace. I went to work with that peace. I can't say I will feel that peace tomorrow or the next day but, for today, it was there.

 

I sent an email to Libby at Dr. Glaspy's office so she could ensure the doctor got the word that I needed a statement from him so my desk can be moved to a better work environment or to let me work at home. I didn't hear anything back from the doctor today. I gave him the fax number and email address at work. Hopefully, tomorrow. I am extremely nervous about working in IPC, now. All day Scott was opening one of the exit doors to get ventilation and someone kept closing them (from the offices on the other side). Fans were blowing, people coughing. Ugggghhhh.

 

I read an email that we had a politician (Brown) that visited the VA Federal Building last Thursday. Our VSO manager, Emmett, said in the email that the rep was 'pleased'. I fired off an email to Emmett and asked what the visitor thought of IPC. Emmett responded that the visitor didn't visit all the spaces but he heard about IPC and was 'pleased'. HAHAHA. Of course, he doesn't visit IPC!!! No visitors come to IPC and talk to us or look at our work space! It's hideous that we are forced to work in a sweat shop like this.

 

Yesterday was Father's Day. So sad. I miss my father. It would be so different if he were alive today and in good health. I would never be afraid. I would never feel anxiety. He would hold me while I cried. He would listen to my thoughts. He would cry for me and love me. He would not let anyone affect me negatively during this time and he would not let me worry about bills. Most of all, he would check on me. He would ask me how I'm doing; in the bathroom, sleeping, sitting for too long and he would ask me if I was okay. He would watch TV with me. He would talk about what's going on in the world and he would listen to my point of view. His comfort would be infinite.

 



Me and my Dad, Elmer S. Dingley. August 1979. Pittsburgh, PA