In the early days of this blog I mentioned a newfound enjoyment of sleep. I just re-read that post with envy, as sleep is really not happening for me lately. I’ve always been a night-time worrier, even when I had nothing much to worry about. Now I’m finding it impossible to switch off when I go to bed.
I also worry during the day, especially when B and I are apart. He went to have an MRI this morning and it took quite a long time. I was convinced he was lying in the street somewhere, having a seizure.
Some nights it feels as if I don’t sleep at all. When I do nod off, my dreams have changed into a re-visit of my life’s mistakes. As I’m approaching 40, there’s a substantial back catalogue to get through. I wish I could bring back the cancer nightmares.
When I got up this morning I found that my eczema has flared up. With that and my black under-eye circles, I could now be an extra in a zombie film (a lifelong ambition) with minimal makeup.
I then spent 25 minutes trying to call my doctor’s surgery to make an appointment. By the time I got through, all of the day’s appointments had gone. Just when I was praising the NHS yesterday. I have a feeling that getting radiotherapy will be a lot more straightforward than seeing a GP. As for seeing a competent, interested, caring GP… well, that is nigh on impossible.
Luckily B has been prescribed a sedative, although his sleep has mostly been ok. I should be able to break the cycle if I take those for a few nights. I’m going to need to get it together soon if I’m to be any use during B’s treatment. Not to mention the need to hold down my day job and perform it with a certain level of competence.
Everything has become much more complicated since I became a PCA (Personal Cancer Assistant). More about that in my next post.