It started on the first Monday afternoon home. I asked my mom, who had taken vacation days from work, to spend time with me while I recuperated, “Is there something on my head?”
I had a cap on from the hospital and was feeling a bump that was itching.
My head was covered in boils by dinner.
I went to see my holistic doctor on Tuesday morning and she gave me a bottle of Tea Tree/Rosemary oil and said to use twice a day.
I couldn’t stand the pain.
I passed out later that night when Michael was putting on more oil.
I literally saw the white light, quivered and slumped. Out cold.
I didn’t know this kind of pain existed.
There are no words.
I cannot describe or explain.
I didn’t sleep because I couldn’t put my head on a pillow in any comfortable way.
I couldn’t lean back on the sofa.
I couldn’t wear a hat and cover them.
I only went into the guest bathroom once, where the three-way mirror allowed me to see all of them.
It’s so gross.
It feels Biblical.
It’s so all consuming that I don’t realize the huge blood blister that’s been on my stomach for over a week is growing. Its caused from the two a day Neupogen shots I had to have post transplant.
It’s hot and bright red at the center: and starting to protrude, the edges are turning green and yellow.
Oh My God, what is happening?
What in Gods name did I do to deserve this?
Am I in the grips of some sort of plague?
I email pictures to Dr. Burt and everyone on his team.
WTF is this?
Help, these HURT!
The response is; its from the chemo, they’ve seen it before.
Not on someone’s head, but other body parts.
Jesus Christ this is a nightmare.
They say use the oil, they’ll call tomorrow.
I tell the trial coordinator, Paula that I passed out from pain. I tell her about my belly that’s on fire and growing a badly formed egg of discomfort that I can’t describe or believe is even happening. Seriously, WTF!!!
I swallow Ativan and Benadryl.
I turn off the phones.
I make my mom stay away.
I DO NOT know how to do this.
I cannot pray or cry.
I yell out in the night ” I QUIT ” Michael asks me from what, I yell at him.
Five days pass before I feel relief.
My first week home being and becoming the “new” me.
Holy shit what was this for?
Seriously, what was this for?
I have no answer.
Tomorrow will be a week.
Michael says where there were forty sores, I now have twelve.
I can wear a hat today and the oil didn’t burn and the itching is bearable.
Maybe someday this will make sense.
Maybe someday I will I understand.
Maybe someday…but it is not today.
Nor I doubt will it be tomorrow.