More up and down

It's three months today since I found out the cancer had returned -- and since I stopped working. I believe I would not have survived up to now with my sanity more or less intact without the friends, relatives, neighbours, coworkers and acquaintances who have kept me afloat by visiting, bringing food (and flowers!), washing my dishes, changing my bed and taking me for walks with my wheelchair. There are days when I feel frustrated and angry because I am trapped in my house -- indeed, on my couch -- especially when the sun is shining. Then I am humbled when someone who lives in the west end -- often someone I don't even know very well or haven't known very long or haven't seen in 20 years -- ventures all the way out to my place in the east end to take me to lunch or pick up a prescription or bring me a litre of milk or accompany me to the hospital. I have set up a wiki website where people can follow my calendar and sign up for a day to check in with me, and it's been quite helpful.

I do perform chores around the house, but most days I can only do them in two-minute spurts before the pain becomes too great. Having said that, the screamingingly horrible pain has died down, and I don't often feel that tremendous pressure that means I ABSOLUTELY MUST LIE DOWN THIS INSTANT. Instead, I simply have pain that makes me moan and feel miserable. That's an improvement! My theory is that the spinal fractures have healed (I'd read that they would). What's causing the rib pain, and, in the past week, hip pain, is still unknown. And a couple of days ago I leaned down to look at something and felt a sharp pain in my other shoulder blade, like I'd pulled a muscle, and now that hurts. And, of course, my left arm still feels like it's made of rubber above the elbow. It all worries me, yet I still have no pain when I lie flat.

There have been more days when I was able to walk a fair distance without much discomfort at all -- for example, I went to Kitchener on the weekend to have Easter dinner with my family, and was able to walk comfortably from my parents' apartment to my sister's house, about six minutes, and back. I felt more human than I'd felt in months. But these days always seem to be followed by days of increased pain, like yesterday. It feels like one step forward and two steps back.

One big development was that I took the Greyhound bus to Kitchener, something I couldn't have done a month ago. My Obus back support was essential. A friend drove me to the terminal, waited in line for me and persuaded the driver to let me on the bus before the other passengers. Guess what? A good way to get a bus seat to yourself is to don a turban, sunglasses and a medical mask. I looked like Joan Crawford visiting an operating theatre. But I really wanted to avoid germs, and I purchased a whole box of masks. My mother didn't recognize me when I got off the bus.

Pollyanna moments:

• My little niece and nephews (ages 9 to 13) seem to be getting used to my hairlessness and are acting less uncomfortable in the face of my illness, which is a relief. It was fun to spend time with them on the weekend.
• I broke down and got cable TV, although I must say that there's only marginally more programming worth watching than I had with an antenna. Still -- more Two and a Half Men, with better reception.
• Yesterday I woke up and realized that the unusually low temperature in my house wasn't just my imagination -- my heating wasn't working. I called Direct Energy and played the cancer card, and a repairman arrived in 20 minutes. Turned out some connections had come loose in my thermostat, God knows how. I got very poor service from Direct Energy when my new boiler was installed four years ago, so they were somewhat redeemed.
• On a sunny day recently, I did laundry and hung it on the clothesline, the first clothesline day of the year. I had to stop every couple of minutes, and then had to lie down for the rest of the day, but it was worth it. Hanging out clothes to dry is such a pleasure (see this earlier post and this one).