Verbal Acrobatics...

3:30 am this morning I was still wide awake. Not the neighbours being noisy this time, it was that flippin' bone pain of mine. The sleeping pill I'd taken over four hours earlier was obviously having no effect, nor had that meditation CDs that I quietly (because I have no intention of starting a showdown with my neighbours) started playing when I realized this was going to be one of those tough nights. About 1:30 am I downed an extra pain pill - about four hours ahead of schedule but it's just one of those choices I have to sometimes make. Another one two hours later, no wonder my stomach is rebelling madly against me the last few weeks!

When friends and members of my medical team ask me how I deal with the middle of the night "creepies" (they offer a variety of monikers for the period of time when one should hope to be sleeping but aren't) I tell them I don't really get too bent out of shape about it. Being alone in the apartment doesn't help, but somehow I have to get through it.

Certainly I'd really rather do without the pain, it's escalating beyond pre-radiation levels and it's frustrating when the pain meds I'm allowed to take aren't making much of a dent (I'm allergic to the opioid family of pain relievers, what I can take I liken to trying to deal with the pain of a broken limb with baby aspirin).

I've been studying on the internet  about neuroscience and pain. Had I realized many years ago how fascinated I was by the science of the brain I would have taken a different path in university rather than liberal arts. My daughter has changed her major at school to Molecular Biology and Genetics and I hungrily grill her to share what she's learned each week.

It would seem that I'm on the right track for trying to diminish my pain when pain meds aren't doing the trick. You might laugh, and of course you may - that's the intent of this exercise for myself.

When I was a child, I used to play a game whereby I would try to come up with a sentence that likely had never been said by anyone before in any language. For instance, "my pet giraffe's grandmother sneezed on my pinwheel cookie whilst I was watching the flea circus perform during a raging thunderstorm". You need stop wondering where I get my wild dreams from, the roots obviously stretch way, way back!

This game was introduced to my daughter when she was very young, and it was a great diversion for her when she was feeling sick or sad. These days we'll play it from time to time as a silly way to pass the time; it's guaranteed to bring a smile to our faces.

This game has also had reasonable success for me when I'm trying to deal with pain when it's becoming intolerable. Not nearly as much fun to play when I'm here by myself but it does seem to help.

More often these days I find myself reviewing real life situations and discovering that my day reads just like one of my imaginary unique sentences. I laughed to myself as yesterday the following thought popped into my head. "I'm scrubbing seasonal decorative gourds in the sink before heading off to a palliative patient support group at my local hospice, where they generously provide gluten-free snacks". I'd bet my right arm (so far tumour free, so it's not such a bad deal) that those words have never been strung together by anyone in any language!

An update on where I go from here for treatment. I have no idea. Tomorrow I see the radiation oncologist, I'm not looking forward to sharing that I only had a short window of pain relief. But I get to show off my seasonally decorated legs (scary old witchy gams?) I showed the burns to a friend last week who delightfully shares our penchant for stringing random thoughts together - together we came up with an hilarious fictional story for how Sandy got those vibrantly coloured legs. It involves a walk in the forest, an anthill, and bugs that explode with permanent dye when annoyed by a llama.

Next week I see my Toronto medical team. Now that one I really dread. Strong hopes were pinned to the radiation, and after so many experimental clinical trials it's really down to me as to whether I'm even open to trying something else. A few days to go and I'm at a loss for what I want to tell them.

In the meantime, perhaps I ought to give serious thought to writing childrens' stories to keep my mind occupied. What child wouldn't enjoy a story about a pinwheel cookie eating giraffe who enjoys the flea circus? Now if only I could learn to draw...