Sunday, March 17, 2013

Anxiety Dreams

I’m recovering at home after Round Three of chemo, and everything went smoothly. Transfusion. Lots of anti-nausea drugs. No temperature. Now I just need to stay out of hospital for the next week, and I’m good for a month or so before the transplant. Actually, I’ve been told to fatten up beforehand. That could be fun!

I had a quiet time in hospital. I was in a room with friendly older women and it was nice. Of course, being in hospital means lots of time and nothing to do. Doze and dream. I had a few anxiety dreams.

I had a dream about driving, and needing to stop but being unable to. The kids were in the back. It wasn’t far from my usual anxiety about driving on motorways.

I dreamt I was behind at university, and couldn’t complete my course in time. I’ve taken leave, so I‘m OK, but I recognised it as a haven’t-prepared-for-the exam dream. When I got home I also saw it as a clue to how many forms had accumulated for me to deal with. The paperwork of running a household and having kids at school.

I had a dream about being chased by fire, then overtaken.

It doesn't take a psychoanalyst to work out I’m processing dealing with my sickness.

And something happened on the ward. A fellow patient, in another room, was dying. I recognised her visitors from when we had shared a room. They were crying. People were making phone calls in the corridor. People were arriving at night and staying late. A nurse was whispering to another patient. When I would usually go to lounge, I didn’t, because I figured the visitors would need some space.  I had wondered how death was managed on the ward. I still don’t really know. All I know is there are still lots of patients who need care, no matter what else is going on.

I wasn’t impressed this week that Kim Kardashian tweeted about having a Vampire Facial, ie, having her own blood injected into her face. The woman should spend some time on the Haematology Ward. I’ve had enough needles and been around enough blood products to think anyone who would volunteer for these things is foolish. I’d like to take a break. I’ve had enough. There are days I look at my arms and could cry.

Anyway, once again I realise that my situation isn’t as bad as some others. My case is fairly simple and low risk. I don’t have the complications that others have. I am very lucky to live near a major hospital. If I keep going as I am I should be fine. 

The transplant is scheduled for 1 May 2013.

1 comment:

sister outlaws said...

Thanks for the update. I always read your posts with great interest. I never know what to say! You hardly seem the type who would appreciate me blubbering and gushing about your bravery and grace in the face of such huge problems. So I'd just like to quietly say that I'm very impressed with how you deal with your illness. And wishing you all the best.