I Swear

Inspirational song: I Can Feel Your Heartbeat (The Partridge Family)

The series of expletive-laden laments I’ve made out loud to no one over the last fourteen hours has been impressive. Mostly I’m just letting out how sore and tired I am, but I’m also a little frustrated at some things that are going wrong. If I let one of those statements slip here, the rest of this post would read like Dennis Hopper’s script in Blue Velvet. It would just be repeating the most cathartic of swear words over and over and over until my fingers got tired. The shorthand is that I feel really effing weak today.

I didn’t feel great this morning, but I got up and showered and dressed to drive the 45 minutes to Thornton anyway. I had to sit a lot during the dressing process. I checked my phone repeatedly during that time, and no one called. Not once. So we left and drove to the doctors office. My phone is paired with the car, and again, it did not ring. When we parked at the office building, I looked, and there was a voice mail (and no missed call). They didn’t say that they didn’t get my referral in time, but they really didn’t have to. I went inside and talked it over with the receptionist. She rescheduled me for a week from today, which was decently prompt, and was as pleasant as she could be for not being responsible for any of the mess. The bright side: a woman came in as I was wrapping up, saying this was the first time seeing Dr G at this location, and she got lost and was late for her 9:45 appointment. I told her she was in luck, that my 10:15 slot just opened up and I was glad to leave it for her.

We stopped at Costco on the way home, to grab a few of the things we go through in bulk, and I spent most of that trip learning where I could find places to sit while I waited for the Man. (In order: couches on display on the way in, a dining room set with a view of the freezer aisles, the bathroom, and the benches in the food court. I’ve never sat so much in a Costco before.)

I still had a half a spoon left to pick up my Palisade peach order from Rotary, stopping at the former club president’s bank on the way home. And that was it. I have been done ever since. I’ve managed to wash my sheets, because oh, god, I had to, but my bed is only half remade. My fingertips hurt too much to tighten the fitted sheets or pull on pillowcases. My body is too weak to do the thing where you fling the sheets and blankets up in the air to spread them. And every time I try to get a little closer to done my heartbeat becomes fast and thready, and I feel terrible. My stomach keeps getting upset, for all that I have a clue how to help it. I’m pretty sure I’m going neutropenic like three weeks ago, but since I burned up all my good NOT having a doctor visit today, I’ll have to wait until tomorrow and see how I feel. The antibiotics they gave me before were more precautionary in case I encountered something that would give me an infection. The cancer sites I referenced said there isn’t much of a treatment for neutropenia otherwise. They just wait for your bone marrow to wake back up and start pumping out white blood cells again. Last time I rebounded strongly, but I was definitely weak for three or four days waiting for it. I’m looking at another weekend alone, while the Mr takes the dogs to the cabin for extended work time. I’ve put out a call to the friends to check on me, especially Friday night and Saturday day. I think I’m covered. If something goes wrong, expect that the in-person swear content of my communications will significantly increase.

No pictures. Too tired. Use your imagination.