Cancer 161

It is very tiring. I haven’t slept much for four nights and I am very overtired. The stoma is working overtime and is sore, despite using the honey rings. We are staying away and the bed is too small, so I end up on a chair in another room. Ok, the chair is a reclining chair so it is reasonably comfortable, though again a little small for me. I have fallen asleep in it a couple of times.

Last night I had dreams of a terrible taste. I think it is a real taste from memory but I can’t name it. I know that if I can think of the right word it will settle me, but I can’t and so the taste is overwhelming. I don’t think it is chemo-related, as it is an old memory of a taste. The word is on the tip of my tongue but I can’t grasp it. It has bothered me now for 24 hours.

I am ill. It is a bug. I keep getting bugs and I am getting run down. I can’t help thinking of death, that this is the decline. Yesterday I had a surreal moment of happiness in my decline, that it was all right to die. The worrying thing is that this feeling is apparently quite common in the dying.

I know, I have been here before. I may sound a little obsessed, but that is probably because I am a little obsessed. Just try it, sitting there with dangly bits coming out of your chest, being pumped full of god knows what in order to slow the growth of a monster. It gets to you at times.