I’m slipping into that phase of chemo where I sleep a lot, and drowse a lot. It doesn’t quite overwhelm me, in that I can shake myself awake and do things, but left to my own devices, I tend to drift off. Eleven, twelve, thirteen hours a day.
I feel like an elderly cat, dozing twenty hours per day. And I hate it.
In my normal health, I fall asleep quickly, sleep hard, and bounce out of bed about six hours later. I run like gangbusters eighteen hours a day, slowing down a bit in the last few hours. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. And even then, I’m down for 2 am nookie or an early morning road trip or whatever.
Not now. Not me. Not anymore. Chemotherapy is the mistress of my fatigue, and I am caught in its bondage. The hours of my day are stolen from me by a thief as meticulous as any embezzler ever was. I will never get them back.
(And yes, I know full well sleep is the great healer. Please spare me the platitudes. It heals, and I accept that, but reject this thievery of the days of my life.)
Posted: 9:43 am Mon December 03 2012 |