[I] wrote about this week’s round too early and said something really absurd — that next week I was thinking of increasing from 10 to 12 doses. Not going to happen.
In the future, I’ll try to hold off writing about a round until the very last hour is up. Yesterday, near the end of my round, may be between 4 and 7 PM, I was so nervously exhausted, I wanted to cry. I wanted someone to take care of me, hold me, do simple things for me. Help me get through it.
I latched on to some small grievance. Something that had a grain of truth in it, but it launched me into a gripping depression that lasted for an hour or so. Seems funny looking back, that it was so short lived, but in the moment, not at all.
That’s the roller coaster. During the round, I experienced a little bit of acceleration, a little bit of joy at the thought that I’m healing, a few glimpses of extraordinary beauty looking at the Rockies blanketed with fresh snow. But overall, it’s a blur, as if I were gripped by some large power and shaken up and dragged around. A surfer would call it getting “Maytagged” and it’s a good metaphor.
You’re riding a wave which is wonderful at first but then you get tumbled, rolled and dragged violently underwater, you can’t breathe for a while and you wonder which way is up. You might get banged on your board or on the ocean floor, before you float to the top.
So Tara, is it a train ride, a roller coaster, a stormy sea, your washing machine’s spin cycle? I guess each round will be different.
I’m hoping with the right tweaks it can become more like riding a train and less like falling in strong surf. Maybe increasing my antioxidants will do the trick and maybe increasing my cortisol supplementation… and maybe changing nothing at all but just continuing along the same path.