Midnight madness

Something is definitely happening to my body, I believe as a direct result of the hormone therapy. I'm not quite sure how to explain it succinctly, but since it woke me up tonight and this is my outlet now, I'm going to give it a shot. And if this bores you, hey, you don't have to read it.

It appears that the hormone therapy is causing my body, or the symptoms associated with the cancer, to go backwards, kind of like rewinding a movie. Over the months leading up to my diagnosis I went through different progressive "stages", in regards to the pain, bladder function, appetite and just overall feeling of strength and wellness. In other words, as the cancer grew, it affected my body in different ways. Kind of like when you get the flu or a bad cold, it starts with a sneeze and a tickle in the back of your throat, then your sinuses get clogged and maybe coughing starts, your throat starts burning, sometimes a fever comes and then there you are, sick. I think it's safe to say at this point that December was my rock bottom, or my "there you are sick" stage. It was, as I described in an earlier post, my Hell month. As bad as it was, none of the stages leading up to that point were very much fun, and one of the worst ones, which I last experienced previous to Hell month, the one that included consistent nighttime sciatic "attacks", the one that lead me to consider suicide, was the one that I believe I have regressed into now.

For several weeks one of my stages went something like this: wake up with a dull pain in my right leg, sort of an "echo" from the night before, go through my day feeling fairly good, come home, lay down to get some sleep, still feeling the "echo", sometimes (like tonight) even fall asleep for 20-30 minutes and then, PAIN! Excruciating, indescribable, unstoppable, fucking sciatic pain in my right leg! Impossible to sleep through! It felt like someone was sticking a knife into my ass, cutting all the way down my leg, the wound healing itself behind the blade as the cut is made, and then turning around and coming back up, and then back down, over and over and OVER!! There was no relief, no position that I could lay in that was comfortable. I would walk around my house, often in tears, doing "laps", thinking maybe I could stretch it out or possibly make myself so tired that exhaustion would over-ride the pain and I could finally get some sleep. It never worked. This would go on for hours, usually until around 5:00am. Then, miraculously, it would begin to subside, allowing me to finally fall asleep, just in time for my alarm to go off at 6:00am so I could wake up, go to work, and start the cycle all over again.

I cannot think of an adjective powerful enough to describe how this made me feel, I don't think one exists in the English language. Frustration squared, to the tenth power!?! Why always at night? On consecutive nights? Why was I not allowed to sleep? I wanted to die, just so I could get some sleep. But ultimately, I knew that death was not an option, so I persevered.

I have never experienced exhaustion like I did in those days. Looking back in my diary I see where there were blocks of time when I would go for as long as 36 hours without any sleep at all which would end with a night of 5 or 6 hours of broken sleep (because remember, I was still pissing every hour or two, which, actually, was a "stage" of it's own that I will write about another time) only to be followed by another 24 hours of no sleep, and so on. In retrospect, I don't know how I got through it. I think the only thing that saved me was Sat. and Sun. mornings because I didn't have to get up for work which allowed me to get some sleep during that window in the morning after the pain subsided. Also, I think it could be a testament to the strength of the human spirit and what we are capable of doing when it's necessary.

Anyway, I believe that I'm back to that stage right now, but there is a difference this time. The pain is not as pronounced as it was before, it's still strong enough to keep me awake, but I'm not pacing around my house crying for sleep. The fact that I don't have to get up at six and go to work also helps, it lets me get my sleep in the morning after the pain goes away, but even beyond that, it's just...different. It's like a healing pain, if that makes any sense, I just feel like it's going to get better instead of worse this time around. There's a light at the end of the tunnel and I'm walking towards it instead of looking at it over my shoulder.

So here I am, typing instead of writing in a book, but now I'm doing it with a positive, optimistic outlook because I see this pain as a regression rather than a progression, and that's a good thing.