I hate them and hate why I have them.
Stupid piece of shit brain tumor.
I was less than thrilled yesterday when, at the drop of a hat, the world started to get dizzy and I started to feel off-balance and the invisible vice clamped onto my head. It’s not even raining. What a disappointment.
Thus, my love affair with my Costco size bottle of Motrin has reignited and I’m thankful the boys are at camp all day. I crawled back into bed this morning with two 80 pound labs who refused to vacate my king bed, and slept (sort of) until noon.
Pardon my bitching, but these are the moments when I miss Paul the most and I get scared about being alone. This is the first time since he’s been gone that I’ve felt so off. Putting a label with my diagnosis, doctor info and emergency contact info on the back of my license yesterday, like I had been told to do a long time ago, certainly made for a well grounded, humbled, lonely and scared patient.
Two words. THIS SUCKS!