Confections For Cats

                        The Reservoir                         by Mathew Rodgers 2014 Just another new document to catch the excess flow of my thoughts. I feel like I'm a story that already everyone knows the ending to. A laundry list of coffee table songbirds Saintly figures of the State Too hollow and not believable It rains so hard that it sounds like the ocean. I run my hand through my new hair. Freshly won from the battlefield of the hospital. To my dismay, it comes out in chunks between my fingers. I wonder how long it will be until my eyebrows and eyelashes flee my face? And leave me looking like a pale ghost of myself. The nurse says to me sternly the longer you wear it the more it becomes a part of your skin. I wonder if that's true? My cats tell me that gray is the softest color. And that things transcendental are difficult.

From Mathew’s Journal 3-31-14 Even now I lose my balance. Even now going to the restroom is a trial. Even now nurse and family stand  by me as I dress so that I don’t fall over   with all the meds in my system. The pain has left me shaken. I hate to sound like a malingerer    or someone who has a small threshold for pain. But cancer opens up new thresholds of pain. 4-1-14 The Dilaudid helps, and I’m a little afraid to go back home and have that pain again.    My mind keeps going back to it. screaming aloud in pain my voice sounds unfamiliar and animal like a dog stuck in a bear trap these are the types you don’t hear about from cancer survivors. - Or maybe you do and we just don’t listen.   - the doctors saw me this morning and the pressing on the abdomen and leaning backward and forward really irritated my pain level. -my hair keeps falling out more and more.

Texts between me and Kathleen I just had the weirdest feeling. As if I am in a movie and our individual reactions to each up and down is just filler. That the end of the story is already  written. It had a calming feeling to it. And you know I don’t believe all that “it was just their time” that our lives are predestined  crap. Sent 3-31-14         Sandy, the nurse was just here. She says her         nursing skills are at out disposal. So she can         help with shots etc. So don’t worry.         Rec’d 3-31-14 He’s out. Port is in. Couldn’t find any problem with biliary drain. Is draining now. Maybe clogged but he is still complaining about pain. Of course, he is not fully conscious. Will be in a few hours before we can go home. Sent 3-31-14          Hope pain goes away.          Rec’d 3-31-14 They are going to do a CT scan to see what they can figure out about why in so much pain. He can’t go home in this much pain.

Mathew's 3 Lumen Pic Line was replaced with a Power P.A.C. Both Mathew and I were given Medical I.D. cards to carry at all times. I have mentioned before that texting from the DRC is almost impossible. The staff told me it used to be the X-ray department so the walls are leaded. Again, the phone tree would have helped so much. I texted the following information to my niece, my sister and Mathew’s Dad and Stepmom. And probably Joseph and Carlos. I know that could have been reduced to two texts, three at the most. At the time  I didn’t know about group messaging as my phone was an old Android. Texts Between me and Diane Hi. We are at the hospital early because Mat is in a lot of pain.  We think the bill stent may have moved. Sent 3-31-14 Because he was NPO for other  procedure they should be able to fix today. Sent 3-31-14 In the DRC sending texts is almost impossible so if you don’t hear from me for a while don’t worry. If any big pr

I’ve been looking at the pages of texts messages I have and Mathew’s Journal entries for the next few days. I look at it all and it’s a mass of pain, to the hospital, home from the hospital, medical ups and downs and Mathew navigating it all physically and emotionally and I feel like I am trudging through thick cloying mud as I write these blog posts. And I wonder what you, the reader thinks and feels. Does it seem like an endless drudgery of depressing procedures and physical and emotional pain?  Constant, constant constant.  If that is how it comes across, then I have successfully conveyed the feelings of this part of the journey. And I continue: From Mathew’s Journal 3-29-14 Wake up nauseous again. Then headed to the bathroom for the gross morning rituals. The day went by with me sleeping. I have been very tired since my last chemo. At 12:00 pm I go NPO because tomorrow I go get a port to replace the nuisance of a pic line. Honestly, though, I can say