Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts

Monday, October 18, 2010

the worms crawl in the worms crawl out the worms play pinnochle on your snout

Here is what my days have looked like lately:

take kids to school - come home and get kid I babysit for - vest/meds/etc - some odd chore - pick up kid from school - hang out, grade papers for class I teach, make dinner, run around - pick up kid from basketball and drive to FB - get home, make dinner feed kid - get kid one in bed feed kid 2 who is now home from FB -homeowrk, bathe etc kid2 - leave for class I am teaching - get home - go to bed

What is missing from that fun filled day? Why, it is my evening treatment. Yes, that's right. In the name of all that is domestic I have foresaken my evening treatment and thus will probably get very sick very soon.

The truth of the matter is I just can't handle these long days. I've never been a high energy type of person. I have always required a lot of rest. So the thought of staying up until midnight doing treatments has been more than I can bear. My husband is working out of town and so I am doing everything alone. Needless to say, I have been close to tears from pure exhaustion more than once.

I know, I know, I am probably supposed to suck it up. I aksed for this life, right? I signed my kid up for two sports at the same time, I am the lazy bones who opts not to stay up and clean out her lungs thus risking infection. I get it. But I am tired and therefore complaing about being tired makes me feel better.

The good news is Football ended yesterday with a slaughtering of my son's team (38-0 - ouch) and b-ball ends in 2 weeks and then, friends, I do nothing. woot.

In other news, my dear friend Cowtown recommended a book to me called Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach. Within the book, Roach visits a human decay facility in Tennessee where foresnic scientists study the decay process of the human body. Roach writes, "Let us return to the decay scenario. The liquid that is leaking from the enzyme-ravaged cells is now making its way through the body. Soon enough it makes contact with the body's bacteria colonies: the ground troops of puterfaction. The bacteria were living in the body as well, in the intestinal tract, in the lungs, on the skin - the places that came in contact with the outside world....as will happen in times of plenty, the [bacteria] population swells. Some of the bacteria migrate to the far frontiers of the body, traveling by sea, afloat in the same liquid that keeps them nourished. Soon bacertia are everywhere"(66).

So I am reading this and all I can imagine is my dead body decaying into a green puddle of mucoid slime. Because, really, wouldn't the Cf body decay with a slightly different set of circumstances? Like, wouldn't our high salt content perhaps slow the process down if it weren't hindered by the other worldy bacteria content in our lungs? I have half a mind to let someone find out after I croak. The book is an interesting read though maybe not for the faint.

Final thougt. My port scare hurts. Like a burn. Yesterday I accidentally scratched it and about fell over. ouch. Is this normal, who the hell knows? Nothing is normal in la vie cystique.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink

The lady from the CF chapter called back, I think, because she didn't leave a message. Pretty annoying and unprofessional if you ask me - but then again, my voicemail is Cookie MOnster, so maybe she wasn't sure if she had the right number. I guess I have to call again.

I got some lab work back today (800 years later). Looks like I will probably be going on abx again. No big surprize.

I felt crappy all day - sleepy and lethargic. It sucks because I have never used Cf as an excuse or a reason to do or to do anything - all the while I thought it was because I was so "tough," not gonna let my diease get me down, etc., though really it was just a form of denial. Now when I am tired and worn out, I feel like I CAN'T say it is Cf related because I feel no one would believe me. I guess it is a case of the boy who cried wolf....though in reverse, maybe?