round 7
If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night,"
Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
For you formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb.
--Psalm 139:11-13
My friend, you belong to God. Let this reality color you entire life.
--St. Vincent de Paul
Yesterday, I took my last Xeloda for this round, so I'm off chemo for the next nine days.
Usually, each round begins on a Monday, with me receiving a 2-hour injection of Gemcitabene and taking my first pill. I go on to take a pill a day through Friday and get Saturday and Sunday free. The following Monday, I go back for a second injection and begin, for the next 5 days, to take my oral medication. I take week 3 off to regain my strength, and then begin the next round the Monday after that. I've generally found that the days following the second injection are my most difficult, and this past week has been no exception.
My biggest problem this week has been my utter inability to fall asleep. Since Monday, I've slept for less than 3 hours each night. I simply do not have the strength to endure this much longer. I've wandered through yesterday and today in a languorous, mentally necrotic state that I'm sure will only worsen if I don't manage to get a full 8 hours of shut-eye sometime soon.
Intertwined with sleeplessness is a lurking sense of fear, sadness and exhaustion that stays hidden from my consciousness most of the day, but has recently come to haunt me in the hours that I spend awake at night. In the last couple of days, it has metastacized, so to speak, into my mornings and evenings as well. The two seem to feed off each other: fatigue from sleeplessness making me more vulnerable to destructive powers, and the feelings of fear and sadness making it that much harder to get to sleep. This pattern, moreover, has messed up my daily routine enough to keep me from the disciplines that normally serve to turn my attention toward the Holy Spirit's gracious presence within me and all of creation, and to center my soul on that foundation--such habits as meditation, morning exercise, and diligence in my work. In the last couple of nights, I've gotten out of bed to pray and to meditate on a few Psalms, and this has proven a source of comfort to me. But I have to admit that this is more out of desperation than fixed habit. It's a bandaid, but it does little to establish a solid Godward disposition.
My life belongs to God, and in the end I have to cling to the promise that our Parent will not give us more than we can bear. But I do hope to get some serious sleep sometime soon.
posted by scott becker @ 8:06 PM
6 Comments:
My heart aches for you, Scott. It seems that sleeping should be as natural to one's body as breathing, and if its tired enough, the body will do what it needs to do (collapse into deep sleep for 12 hours). The last thing you probably want is more medication to solve this side effect, as well. We'll pray your fatigue is lifted from you, and the fear and sadness is transformed into a "Godward disposition" (I love your phrasing).
Your friend,
Denise
Dear Scott.
It's sad to know of your suffering, but, thanks for posting. I shall certainly pray tonight that you have a pleasant sleep. On the bright side, growth hormone is released when you sleep, and, although a great rejuvenating hormone for those who don't have cancer, you MIGHT be doing yourself some good by NOT sleeping for a while to deprive the cancer of a "great rejuvenating hormone". Worse comes to worse, Scott, have you contemplated medical pot? If I had terminal cancer, I think I'd be making Greek or Caesar salads out of the stuff. I wouldn't smoke it (I love to breathe), but, gad, there has to be SOMEthing good about the groovey herb for those in terminal situations, atleast. I voted for the legalization of medical pot. Anything that you have heard of about it? Oh, by the way, I've never smoked pot, but, I believe, might have eaten some of it in brownie form during a Passover. The next day, all I wanted to DO was sleep.
Your concerned friend,
Bruce Ramsey
I've had problems sleeping for years, but the anxieties that wake me don't really compare to what rumbles in your soul these days, dear one. Know that on any night you're awake around 3:30, I'll most likely be awake, too, and thinking of and praying for you. Maybe some really crappy fiction might help you to get to sleep, like it does for me. Do you EVER read any fiction, Scott? ;)
You are missed greatly up here.
Love, Allie
Scott,
Delighted to stumble across your blog, only to find out you are ill. So sorry to hear about this latest setback. Any words meant to comfort or cheer are hollow and completely inadequate when compared to the magnitude of the issues and the myriad of indignities you are facing. You and and your family are in my prayers.
If I could, I would make you a pepper jelly omelette and wash your feet, as you did for me once at a Stephen Minister's retreat.
What touched me profoundly about your involvement in the Stephen Ministry program was the heart of service you showed, not just to those who sought someone to listen to them, but to those who came to serve. Speaking as a Stephen Minister, we found unexpectedly that we received far more than we gave, much of it due to your support, guidance and leadership.
I can only pray that now you receive some measure of the support and comfort you have shown others through the years. If so, it will be abundant, pressed down and overflowing (but only when you need and want it).
Praying for your restful sleep, energy, comfort, renewed strength,
Lois
Hey, Sweetie, This is heartbreaking. You just have enough on your plate without also having sleeplessness steal any sense of peace. I am so glad that before I read this entry, I actually saw you after you finally got 7 straight hours of sleep. And isn't it amazing what one night of good sleep can do? At least it appeared that your mood was up and I was astonised that your energy sustained you for the visit to the museum and into the evening. I so enjoyed our visit. Hope all is going well with your dissertation. And I do hope that you are continuing to sleep decently on a more regular basis. Love you, Mom
Scott,
What is it about chemo and this whole cancer journey that makes sleep so elusive? I understand a bit of what you are going through, as I, the consummate sleeper, went through five months or so of general and pervasive wakefulness during my treatments. So discouraging! Are you familiar with Jane Kenyon's beautiful poem, "Let Evening Come"? I have read it over and over again as both a comfort and a benediction. I'll send it to you by e-mail. These are the "small and scorching ordeals that fire our irresolute clay." My thoughts and prayers are with you and Karla.
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