Feces Eventuates

That’s the fancy way of saying “Shit happens”. Will and I got the news today that he will have to be on blood-thinning medications for the rest of his life, which will mean frequent blood testing and monitoring for subtle signs of internal bleeding. The poor man already looks like he’s been beaten half to death, thanks to the shots I’ve been giving him twice a day and the blood work he had done the other day, and we still don’t have him up to therapeutic levels. But there are millions of people on anticoagulation therapy who live normal lives, and Will can too…..if anything, this may extend his life even further.

We got good news, too. The tumors have shrunk markedly, and his liver is both smaller and softer than it was. In fact, he’s in good enough shape that he won’t have to go back to the oncologist for three months—not that we don’t love Dr. Wonderful, but this means Will is stable and there are no acute issues as far as the cancer is concerned. This is the Holy Grail, the day we never thought would come when we first started this journey a little over a year ago. Back then, nobody thought he’d survive longer than a few weeks or months…..and yet here he is 14 months later, as hale and hearty as anyone with stage IV cancer can possibly be. God is great, and modern medicine ain’t too shabby either.

All of this has made me look at life with a new appreciation. I still have occasional thoughts of not wanting to be here, especially when I consider our current circumstances and the likelihood that things will get worse before they get better. But then I look at Will, who is literally fighting for his life, and I feel ashamed for wishing sometimes that I could let go of mine. He’s made it clear that he’s putting up with all the poking and prodding and medication side effects because he wants to be around for me and the kids; I owe it to him to stay by his side.

Shit happens. Life goes along day by day, and sometimes it’s full of blessings and sometimes it’s loaded with tons of, well, shit. Lately it’s been mostly the latter, but even in the midst of this steaming pile there are things of beauty to be found. Like Will’s smile and his huge, work-hardened hands holding mine as gently as they might hold a butterfly. Like the security of a long marriage which has survived through even tougher times than these. Our world may be falling down around us, but there is a peace in our hearts that all the hardships in the universe can’t touch.

Aw, geez, I’m getting all sentimental and I didn’t mean to write about mushy stuff. The post I’d been planning to write was about this ongoing mild mixed episode and how ridiculous it is to want a rip-roaring blast of mania, just to get it out of my system (and it IS there, simmering under the protective layer of medications and begging to be released). But as it is with most writers, sometimes my posts write themselves completely without permission from my conscious mind, and what comes out is what actually needs to be said.

So I think I’ll just leave this entry the way it is and write the other post on another day. After all…..feces eventuates!


Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

3 thoughts on “Feces Eventuates

  1. Shit happens. Hold on tight. In 1998 my dad had a pacemaker installed and went on blood thinners (cumadin) … he had one scare in 2002 when he had a freak clot in his tracheal tube but he made it. It’s now 2014 and he’s still kickin’ at 78 – the tests are annoying and having your “manhood” taken away was humbling … not being able to climb ladders, being extra careful around the house etc… was not easy – but it’s doable.

    It’s manageable. It’s like insulin… only rat poison. 🙂

    Today I was told by my therapist that they don’t think they can do anything more for me… and are recommending a comprehensive evaluation by Johns Hopkins or some other major research medical center because they’ve nearly killed me twice with drugs – and I am allergic to most every family of drugs … and my disorder does not fit the books for them… so they’re passing me on… which was horrifying but I know they care and are trying to help me and lead me to healing.

    It’s scary. Life is scary as shit. Don’t be afraid of the dark. You’re not alone. Hold on tight.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much for your comments. It’s good to hear about your Dad, I’m hoping my guy will still be kickin’ 16 years from now. 🙂

      I hope you get the help you need soon. It must be scary as hell to be in your position. I’m wishing you the best. Keep me posted, OK?

      Liked by 2 people

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