A couple nights ago...

I am feeling so sick. It's the nausea I get from the pressure on my upper spinal cord, ie my brainstem. It's a "dry" nausea, I can have dry heaves and nothing comes of it. But the nausea comes every day and sometimes sticks around for hours.

Last night, I did a very, very bad thing!! I sanded down my dogs' toenails. I hold them on my lap and do the job with an electric moto-tool.

You see, I'm not wired to find reasons not to do something. I'm hard-wired to find a way to do it even if I'm sick. That was the way I was all of my life. Now, you can see only a faint shadow of the person I used to be. My weakness and the pain that wracks my body just puts a huge block wall in my way. It's been a long, long time since I've been able to really work hard, but each day, as I find a way to get through it, I look for that special, rare moment when there's a millimeter of strength to achieve something. That's all I hope for, each day, is some oomph that will allow me to do something that I really want to see done.

I can't afford a house cleaner or a yard worker and really can't afford to pay a vet to do my dogs' nails. But...I'm their owner and it is my responsibility to keep them healthy. So, last night, I felt pretty good, so I did their nails. I knew, knew well, that doing something that keeps my chin on my chest will produce some nasty symptoms soon to follow. I would think I'd weigh the known payback and simply not do it! But, I'm just hard-wired to do something if there's any chance in the world that I can do it. Which is not necessarily a quality...

So, tonight, after a day that saw me spending 3.5 hours in bed, due to painful weakness, I have been overwhelmed with the nausea. Pain at the back of the head...but also this wicked nausea. Ginger drops help but not tonight. I've taken a handful of tums, I drank 2 small glasses of milk, I ate a half a piece of bread with peanut butter, which often helps. But not tonight. I laid down in the dark...just took another oxycodone for the head pain...

and through all of this it seems silly that I still wrestle with the question that haunts me day and night: if the neurosurgeon offers me a surgery like he did last time, should I take it? I guess it wouldn't be a question so much if this neurosurgeon had not told me before, "You could die from this surgery."