Cancer 239

It is getting worse. I am getting worse. Sleep is one of the main problems. I am falling asleep in odd places and odd times. I have never got on with sleeping, but now it seems I have no choice. If I sit for any length of time I fall asleep, whether I am sitting on a sofa or at a table. I even sleep at night – not all the time of course but I keep drifting off. Yesterday I fell asleep while putting my shoes on. One minute I am sitting taking off my slippers, the next I am sitting there, head drooping, asleep. Two minutes later I woke up and put my shoes on. I sleep sitting up or lying down. I haven’t yet fallen asleep while driving, nor in the middle of a conversation, though it has been close.

Fortunately, at the moment, I am largely aware of what is happening (I think!). I know I fall asleep. I know I wake up. The worrying thing is that this is what happens as people die. They spend more and more time asleep. I fight it but it is difficult. I am drawn to sleep. I want to sleep.

Another issue is that I am getting increasing pain around the tumours in my abdomen. They are getting bigger and are more in the way. Being thin is no longer an option for me. This interferes with my stoma, which is now constantly in a state of diarrhoea, except when I am undergoing treatment, when it stops altogether for a couple of days and then starts genereating rabbit turds. It is a mess. It fired off outside for the first time the other day. It could easily have been a disaster. As it was it was embarrassing. I know I shouldn;t feel embarrassed. It is not as though I can help what happens. I have no control over it whatsoever, but I do retain a smidge of human dignity and shit doesn’t fit well with dignity.

Let me know if you are intrested in coming along to my living wake on April 11. While details are unclear it will be in the afternoon, and will involve something to eat and drink. I need numbers and then I can plan.

Today we drive home from the Lake District. The last few days have been wet but that is the Lake District. I have bought books, driven around, eaten in nice hotels and standard pubs, and written bits of my thesis. With regard to food, a subject close to my heart – yes, my stomach is close to my heart – I am losing it a little. I no longer want large meals. I want to eat little and often. I do not look forward to the things I used to look forward to, such as a fried breakfast or fish and chips. The wife now has to eat her entire portion of food rather than avoid divorce by handing over a tithe of her food. I have eaten ready meals and thought the portion size is adequate. It is suggested that I go round the supermarket looking for treats but I no longer see food as a treat in the same way. It is beoming a burden, like so many things.

I keep buying books. I know I will never read them all, but I have become more obsessive about the,. I have several books on the go at the same time, both fiction and non-fiction I am currently reading about the Vietnam War in the Philippines, teh origins of the bible, George Orwell, the origins of the impressionist movement in Paris under the siege and the Commune – along with materials relating to my thesis, ie early modern science, domestic science, art and Aletheia Howard, and so on. I wonder if I am just trying to keep my brain active for as long as possible.

I am tired now. It is 0030, and I have been up since aroud 2100 (yes, I go to bed early, 1915 as you are asking).*I will try and read for a little while and then sleep. The problem is sleep only comes along for an hour or so, and then I am awake again, at least for a few minutes. Then I want sleep again. Everything is so disruptive.