August 24, 2021
I.
There’s a name for what is happening right now, but danged if I can think of it. It’s when there are multiple factors happening at once that individually could affect Things, or which, in combination, could be culprits. ‘Cuz I don’t feel good. Like, go back to bed not good.
So, there’s the infusion– is the durvalumab just not for me? There’s the steroid taper, which had me starting the week at 10 mg. per day. Then there’s the third Covid shot I got late Saturday afternoon. A friend who is severely immune compromised had her third shot last week and said that, while she had no reaction to shots 1 and 2, she definitely had one to shot 3.
So, Dr. Oncology said to increase the steroids for a couple of days, then taper down again. She’s not canceling next Wednesday’s immunotherapy. I’ve pulled out the trusty nebulizer– ’cause maybe it’s asthma, too?– and will down some acetaminophen to beat off the sinus headache.
Fluids, baby. Lots and lots of fluids.
II.
It’s funny how dramatic my responses can be at the start of a new set of circumstances. I go right into catastrophe mode. People riding bikes past the house? My brain says, See, you’ll never be able to do that again. Stopping to catch my breath at the top of the stairs? Yep, you’re gonna be an invalid. And, Forget hiking. Or, You’ll never be able to leave the house again.
I know I’m not the only one who does this. Catastrophizing is one of the worst ways we humans can treat ourselves, don’t you think? All by ourselves, in the privacy of our own heads, we can pick the worst possible scenario and move in. It’s especially prevalent at about three in the morning, when the world is asleep and all the worst possibilities lurk. Positive thinking? Why would I strive to seek a bright side?
(Although, the Atlantic just published a great article by Caitlin Flanagan, called The Secret to Surviving Cancer, which discusses the myth of positive thinking and curing cancer. Oooh, it’s a good read.)
Once I can wrap my head around other possibilities, I can take a step back, shake myself off, and make a rule: no thinking about anything like this until you can get up and fill in the blank. Today it’s not have a headache or chills.
(Note: there are other rules to resist catastrophizing and general mental malaise. One is, never start a sentence with What if_________________. That’s a sure road to a Very Bad Place. A sentence with never in it also bodes poorly.)
I’m seeing that the field of medicine works by ruling out possibilities one at a time before deciding on the most likely treatment pathway. It’s hard to do that with multiple layers competing for attention. So, they start with the one that makes sense given the most recent circumstances. For example, hello, steroids.
Now, I’ll head to bed. I will drink fluids the way I would if my sinuses were doing their typical stupid thing, and I’ll wait. The good news is, I have all the tools I need to care for myself through this.
Here’s hoping your day has had no catastrophes!’
Image by urikyo33 from Pixabay
Bed linens from Pixabay