Gripes

It's good to whinge now and then. Get the frustrations out and move on. I've been winging for a week now, because the pain in my joints is getting worse from the Exemestane and it's particularly bad today.

I wrote this a week ago. Probably went to sleep after taking the pain killer. Now, I want to complain about my gut. Ever since I went back on the Exemestane at the end of July, I have had bouts of really bad gut pain, or pain just under the ribs, where my hiatus hernia used to bother me, and throw up anywhere between 1-5 times. I did see the Professor once, but he didn't seem fussed. Of course it's not his gut and not his day completely washed out.

I am having one of those days today. After a fitful night of waking up to go to the bathroom, I felt very nauseated and took a Maxalon, my wonder pill against nausea. Well, well, well. Within 5 minutes I was vomiting.

I am very frustrated, as you can tell by now. I was supposed to go to a meeting this morning in my community volunteer capacity. I really wanted to go, to learn. I had to cancel. Grrrr.....

I am frustrated. I have come up with a project to help community harmony and am not amused that my body wants all this attention. We are having a mind/body disagreement at the moment. It goes like this:

Body:  Hey babe, I want you to pay attention....

Me:     Ignore it...

Body:  OK, sorry I called you Babe, but will you listen to me?

Me:     Oh, you talking to me? What's wrong.

Body:   I don't know... grumble....

Me:      Well, let me know when you know....

Body:   You don't even care....

Me:       Of course I care, but I can't do anything if you don't know what's wrong with you?  You look great! You look healthy, the     doctors told you all your lab tests were normal....

Body:    NOT ALL!

Me:       So, the cancer markers are up a bit. That's nothing to worry about.

Body:    I'll show you..... (the body heaves, shoves, produces pain in unlikely places)

Me:       OUCH!  You don't have to do that!

Body:    Yes I do. If I don't make you really sick, you don't listen to me. I am just giving you some warning signals that all's not well.

Me:      OK, OK.  I GOT IT. But if they can't show anything wrong in the lab, they have no idea why you keep warning me. And you are driving me crazy.

Body:   Well, it's your funeral. I am warning you. PAY ATTENTION.

I pick up the phone and call the doctor. He is away this week.

OK, so there's a bit of artistic license there, but really.... I am very frustrated, but writing it down makes me feel better. Roll on next week.