I try not to moan. I try not to complain. I know how lucky I am in so many ways. There are people I know and love who are not long for this land. And I can't imagine what that is like. To have been through it all. Chemotherapy. Radiotherapy. Surgery. All those hours of sitting in hospital waiting rooms and to still die. It's hideous. It really is. And I'm still here. I'm still alive. And for no apparent reason at the moment to change this, I am destined to be here for quite a while.
And yet. My life is not mine. I am plagued and hindered by fatigue. Those that have it know the fine line we walk. To make sure that there is enough sleep. Not too much walking. Not too many meetings. Eat enough food. Keep going using caffeine and sugar. I hate how dependent I am on caffeine. But if I don't. I don't know if I would make it through the day.
I smile and say I'm well when people ask. Because in general I am. And then I have days like today. A busy week last week. Not enough sleep last night. And I'm completely and utterly ruined. And when I say not enough sleep last night. I probably had 7 and a half hours. And I can't function. I had a meeting this morning and now. All I can think about doing is crying. I have emails to send. Admin to do. I also have to exercise because of my fitness plan. I have no idea how I'm going to do this.
And this. This I am sick of. And I don't know what to do. I keep on forgetting to take my drugs. Maybe it's because I don't actually want to be taking them. I don't. But I do. Because of the unknown. If I stop and the leukaemic rate rises and triggers the bone marrow back into producing leukaemic cells and I don't response to the pill chemotherapy I take daily. It's another story entirely. It's a stem cell transplant. It's living in hospital. It's having my immune system and bone marrow destroyed. It's possibly not surviving. Or having even worse side effects to deal with.
So really. I should just stop whinging about being tired. Because it could be so much worse.
With love and hope,