Week 67

As I crawled into my disgustingly dirty bed sheets at 67 weeks of treatment I am irritated and pissed off over how much chaos my whole life is in since beginning my Hep C treatment. I know that my sheets are dirty, but I have no energy to pull the sheets off the bed, vacuum the bed and pillows, wash the sheets in hot water and remake the bed. I am resentful and disgusted that I have to put up with this situation. The Others here are asked to take the sheets off the bed and wash them for me, but it’s been many weeks and I just cannot do it myself. They conveniently forget within a few minutes.

I cannot find a set of towels that match and every cupboard in the house is in complete shambles. The Others ask me where things are and I cannot even figure out where they’d be because the Others have shoved them into places I’ll never find. The Others look at me for decisions what bowl to put the chips in and I just look at them and tell them to figure it out. I hardly care if they serve them in a jam jar. I have not been the hostess extraordinaire this year and a half, but they still think I know where things are in the house.

The Others still won’t make an effort to replace the toilet roll, refill the paper towel roll, refill the soap trays and containers, make fresh ice or put stuff away. So, guess who still has to do it at the times when I need the items. It’s like they reappear like magic to them. I resent it terribly because I waste my energy on those little things and cannot focus on big things I need to do like struggling to make something to eat, grooming myself, cleaning the toilets, etc.

Christmas dinner was held here. I was on tx last Christmas and it was extremely rough. This Christmas was the same. However, my 81 year old Mom was hell bent that I wouldn’t have to do anything. She is nearly 82 (in February) and she caved on me by 1:30 p.m. Christmas day with a houseful of people and dinner to be served at 6 p.m. My sis and her husband were forced to peel vegetables and they were shocked that they had to do it. When I wasn’t on treatment I did most of it. I didn’t care what they thought this Christmas as I warned them I couldn’t do it. My Mom doesn’t know I’m on long term treatment for Hep C. She thinks I have an autoimmune disorder and the medication is pretty rough right now. My sister knows that I am on tx for Hep C and she said to me on the phone earlier in the week...”Well, you only have five weeks left...”

No clue.

Of course, my in laws came very early, and nothing kills a happy conversation so quickly as my Mother-In-Law. My rellies sat there in almost stonie silence once she arrived.

I sat on my arse and hardly moved as I couldn’t do a thing. Husband was in charge of turning on the oven (so I wouldn’t have to deal with it) and after the turkey was in for an hour I asked why the fan was running. He shrugged his shoulders. I quizzed again after a half hour and asked husband to check the stove and he had it on broil. I was seething, livid...but I kept control of myself. I stewed for the rest of the day over it. One job to do, he has been taught how to turn on the oven a few times and he still screwed up a major thing. The meal was terrible (too many cooks) and I was a rabid, nasty, bitch by 8 p.m. after they all left a huge mess. One of the Others, my husband, did what he could and I tried to muster up the energy the next day to continue the cleaning. I was not extremely successful at getting very much done. I was licked, but I managed to get it a quarter of the way cleaned.

There is no fight left in me, but I expect I will be ripping a strip of the others when I have the energy. I need to get away from them as much as possible by myself when I am able to drive.
I tried desperately to get out of this huge meal, but my Mom was insistent and for the sake of keeping my medical situation a secret I wouldn’t give out the true story. However, from my sister’s response on the phone, I’m sure they still wouldn’t get it.

Injections 65 & 66

Hi
Well, I had my hair cut on last week and it’s nearly the haircut that my mother gave me in the early sixties and I cried for days over it. LOL I wanted her to glue it back on my head. There is nothing I can do with this hair until I get rid of all the chemical ruined hair and I get re-growth. There is no recovery it was so lifeless, wispy, dry and thin that it was flying out from my head all the time. I looked like I was semi electric shocked and it felt as if I were wearing an inside out fur hair band around my face. It itched me to death and drove me nuts. It’s gone now. I look like a pin head and I won’t be going anywhere for a long time. I really don’t want anyone to see me with the Olive Ole look. If I wear a turtleneck it covers my long neck. I still look like Olive Ole in a turtleneck.

Interestingly, my nurse practitioner told me at my last appointment that I was her first patient that she had to tell to EAT! “Stuff, yourself and eat, eat, eat!” I try. She said most of her patients come into tx with extra weight on them and the weight loss isn’t an issue. I started my tx with a great BMI for my height. I dropped 16 lbs very quickly and I still fluctuate between 134 and 137. However, my blood sugar dropped like a ton of bricks on this treatment and I battle that issue every day.


I am in very rough shape these last couple of weeks. I have been plagued by sick headaches and vision problems. My vision problem was checked out months ago and the eye specialist determined that it was migraine auras without the migraine. Well, these last two weeks I have been getting sick headaches. I have a clinic appointment this week so I’ll check with the nurse practitioner even though I am scared to admit anything to her. There is always the threat to haul me off the treatment.

62,63,64

1962, 1963, 1964 are very vivid to me. I can remember the days of Barbie Dolls and the glamorous outfits. I had one Barbie Doll evening gown that was a black mermaid bustier with long black gloves and black dress shoes. Wow, I thought that outfit was the Cat’s Meow. I can remember many days of taking my little red Barbie Doll suitcase and walking to a friend’s house for a play date. It was basically going over to Juile’s house to play, but now they are called play dates. LOL Her older sister had a job and bought her a new Barbie outfit every payday. Wow! I only received a new Barbie outfit for Christmas or my birthday. Sometimes when I get the smell of plastic as an adult it reminds me of Christmas and receiving a new doll.

I also remember those days in elementary school where we actually made a habit of going outdoors and having fun. I can remember the teacher bringing in cookies and treats for special occasions like Christmas, Valentines, Easter and Hallowe’en ... now the food police have moved into our lives and they have even banned what kids are allowed to eat in schools and are only allowed to serve healthy food. Basically, when I was growing up that’s what treat’s were...special occasion goodies.

It must be the rebellion in me to resent the food police. I am so tired of being dictated to regarding what is best for me.

I have too much time to think while on this treatment. I can’t wait to have a life back. LOL


The days are pretty well much the same on this treatment. I am so exhausted, sick, mentally wrecked and angry all at the same time.

I am getting no ease up from the interferon. I used to be upright by the next weekend following my Sunday night injection. However, those days are gone and I am going nowhere and doing very little.

My Mom won’t let me out of hosting Christmas dinner because she insists that she will do the work. It doesn’t happen that way. I get the arse run off me “getting this or getting that”. I can barely stand following the event. It took me four days to clean up after the last dinner because I could only do things in small amounts. Of course, she doesn’t know I’m on chemotherapy. She nearly kills me with these family dinners and I am still smarting from the last one I didn’t have because everyone else was invited out for Thanksgiving dinner and we sat home and stared at the walls. I had hoped that someone would have invited us, but they didn’t. My boys understood what was happening, but they were shocked that I couldn’t do it.

This is not a pity party...just a pissed off party. Thanks Riba!

Food is tasteless, to the point it tastes raw, uncooked, rancid, stale. I just eat to take the pills and to keep my blood sugar in check. Imagine having the opportunity in your life to eat anything, everything and as much as you wanted only to be cursed with it all tasting like crap. “It’s like a black fly in your Chardonnay...”