I Have a bottle of happy pills. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer they were offered to me by my obgyn. At first I declined, then upon second thought and some gentle chit chat from my girlfriend, I had her call back on my behalf [i was driving] and accept the offer.
But there they have sat in my cute medicine container [here is that post]. The bottle has a pink sharpied happy face etched on top of the bottle. I've looked at them everyday but have yet to pop them open.
Last week I was tempted. I was feeling blah. I didn't want to do anything. Not open a magazine, read a book, chit chat, watch tv, sleep. I'm not comfortable. I just didn't want to do anything. But I'm restless. I want to do to just do.
When I met with my oncologogist this week and went through my 'list' of why I thought it might be time for the happy-pills, she clearly stated I had "fatigue".
WHAT?! I'm just plain ol' over-tired. As in go take a nap, stop putzing, stop doing laundry, stop trying to declutter every inch of my cancer-world. How can I be fatigued, I hardly do anything anymore?
Oh ya, I have those cancer-cell killing drugs running through my body. Odd how I could forget that the drugs that are killing my cancer are also killing my go-go, my up-and-at-em, tarnishing my super-mom cape. Darn them for not just targeting the cancer.
I've had to take a moment, ok several of them the past 2 days and remember to put on my big girl panties. To tell myself that fatigue sucks, but cancer sucks more. That I may be mopey + weepy, but I'm here with my family and I have an excuse to be nestled under the covers at 7pm or 3pm or 10:30am. But I'm restless. This doesn't work well for me.
ps. the happy sign is on hwy 101 on the oregon coast...nice reminder through a rain dropped car window [rain in all it's many forms]