I’m the frog in the pot of water. It’s furiously boiling around me, and I still think I’m just hanging out in a nice hot tub.
Objectively, I know I’m getting better. The esophagitis has largely died down, with just a little sensitivity around certain foods. The nausea’s still hanging around but much lesser. It feels great to drink cold water, and even better to know I can keep myself hydrated now.
Subjectively, it feels like an endless series of the same day, over and over again. I know I’m massively de-conditioned at this point: I’ve lost more than 40 pounds in the past couple months, and I’ve been eating an average of 650 calories a day. I’m super weak. Sometimes it feels like it takes all my strength just to walk around the apartment. Changing the litterbox this morning felt like a major accomplishment. That’s a sad measure of accomplishment, if you ask me.
Objectively, I know I was here before–but worse. Last time I went through cancer treatments, I could only eat liquid food substitutes through a feeding tube into my stomach. I lost 80 pounds and was de-conditioned for six months rather than two. I came back from it… but how?
I’ve always had a weird memory: precise for the details a writer would want to remember, the moments and sensations, but unbelievably fuzzy for everything else. I remember being very very sick, in bed. I remember being weaker than I am now. And I remember getting to the point that I ate regular things and went to work and then everything was normal again. But how and when did that happen?
I’m going to try to be better about updating the blog because writing here about what I’m able to do now will help me keep some perspective on how I’m better. It might also help anyone else going through this so they can look ahead and know they’ll get better too.