Frustrated

It’s another chilly, cold and otherwise typical winter day, that does not add to my cheer or enjoyment of life.  This is taking longer than I’d like to climb out of this feeling.  Really not my normal way of operating.  Jerry is now on my feet, warming them up which feels nice.  He got a long while on my lap today while I was getting my hydration and then he got cuddles from my support worker when she arrived, and he was locked in the other room with Don while the nurse was here.  He was NOT lonely!  But apparently this was inadequate puppy attention, and he made sure to convey his annoyance to everyone around.  Don is catnapping just now; tomorrow will be a long day and I’ll be heading in to sleep early tonight to get as much rest as I can before the long day ahead.  He got quite a  lot of sport last night; I woke up several times during the night to hear the annoying theme music of sports talk show or ongoing matches until about 4am.

My blood pressure crept upwards today to 99/58, which is an improvement over earlier this week, but still lower than we’d like.  The hydration does manage to give me some extra energy so I’m not as wobbly or weak as before.    My very good friend showed up shortly after 9am with freshly baked bread and a meal, which was awesome.  I had some of the bread immediately, and I’m going to have some in a moment for dinner.  That was awesome, and a very bright spot this morning.  The day went utterly overwhelming after that… I got a call from the cancer centre reminding me of my appointment tomorrow, and dropping a casual “you have to do your blood work today.”  Well, I can’t.  I’m hooked to an IV pole so I can’t go anywhere.  Then, she offers smilingly, come in 2 hours early to do it.  Because, of course, I have all the spare energy needed to hang around a hospital, right?  I’m reviewing in my mind where I can get something to eat, and the area where I will be is — you guessed it — in the wrong building.  There’s a coffee shop in the next building but the most convenient entrance with the shortest walk is now a staff entrance since COVID, and the next one is at a distance that strains my strength.  There used to be a little cart that would be in the cancer centre with muffins, tea and coffee, which has gone since the pandemic.  I called the helpline to ask if they could use my work from last week.  The nurse calls back and apologetically explains that because I had chemo last week, it would have affected my readings so they need to check that they’re within range to administer the next round, and therefore they can’t use week old data.  I rechecked the note explaining the plan, and there’s only mention of blood work at the beginning of the cycle, not every 🤬 week!  But I see that you have a 10:30 appointment, so just go do your blood when you come for that.  I explain that my doctor saw the double booking and said that he’d come meet me in the chemo unit so I didn’t have to spend all day at the hospital.  I wanted to scream in frustration.  Thank God for Don and his calm practicality.  We’ll go in for 10 so I can do the blood work, and he’ll wait until the session is done around 3.

Then my support worker called and said she’d be here around 3, but she’d been overbooked and can only do 1 hour.  I think the series of events sent my blood pressure ticking upwards.  I’ve lost 2 hours this week already because the agency couldn’t find someone Monday or Tuesday, and now they’re shorting me another hour?  I wanted to call and yell at them because I’m being shorted on a regular basis — and they’re being compensated for my full hours.  She gave me the names of 2 managers to ask for, and I’ll do that tomorrow.

Anyway, the day wasn’t complete frustration.  I ordered my stove which will be delivered on Friday; my lovely worker emptied out the stove and unplugged it so that the delivery guys will just install the new one and take away the old one.  She’s offered to cook Friday night so we’ll christen it!  

Please, dear God, I appreciate that you think I can handle all of this.  At the risk of seeming ungrateful, would you mind alleviating a little of the testing?  It’s everything all at once everywhere, and I begin to feel like I’m cracking into atoms.  Some help, please?   I’m going to have my fresh bread and some tea and cheese, maybe.  Good night!