Wearing down

Like a rock on the beach, I'm steadily wearing down from the relentless waves washing over my surface. Although this water may be relatively gentle, under its constant ebb and flow, my rocky exterior doesn't stand a chance.

Except for the unexpectedly painful port procedure, none of my current "complaints" are huge, but they all add up to a situation where my optimism, enthusiasm, energy and zest for life are waning. I don't like it, but I don't know how to recapture it. I feel so out of control right now.

Items I continually seem to whine about these days include:

• Feeling tired - I know producing cancer sucks up energy, as does healing. I'm sure creating ascities can be a drain too (pun intended). Despite eating and (mostly) sleeping well, I continually feel exhausted.
• Discomfort - While I'm only in pain occasionally, I always feel discomfort. My stomach hasn't felt "normal" since the port insertion (and even before it was squished by the fluid). Gas plagues me, causing pain. Eating too fast or not eating often enough hurts. My abdomen feels like it's reacting in disgust and shying away from the new kid in town, aka the pigtail, by throwing a little hissy fit. The discomfort makes me walk slower and assume a slightly stooped stance.
• Draining - I worry about the whole draining process. Some days, I can't get any fluid for hours, which makes me fret about blood clot blockages and whether the port is working correctly. Then I'll drain off about 500 mL later in the day. I know the entire process depends on where the pocket of fluid is situated in comparison to the port, whether the pigtail is pressed up against the walls of my belly, which blocks the drainage holes and the laws of gravity. I know I'll get used to it but I'm dissapointed I'm not able to drain on demand, especially since I know fluid is in there.
• Inconvenience - I don't have the hang of this bag/draining thing yet. It still embarasses me. I'm worried about people catching a glimpse of my fluid-filled bag or tube and disgusting them. I feel restricted in my movements and activities because I must worry about draining, emptying and wearing the paraphenalia under my clothes.
• No action plan - I still don't know what treatment option I can pursue. I called Hamilton yesterday to learn the site hasn't even been activated for the clinical trial yet. (Note to self: When Dr. H says days, it means weeks.) I know ethics boards and medical administration move slowly, but I'm extremely anxious to know if I qualify. In addition, I feel every day I don't fight this cancer is one where it's establishing its position in my body and spreading around. I know I "want" my tumour to grow to one centimetre so I have a measurable lesion, but I certainly don't want the cancer to make its way into other organs or areas of my body. I'm extremely worried about sitting around and waiting.
• My support system - I'm concerned about the mental health of those around me who are constantly worrying. I hate being the cause of of such stress. I hate being dependent on Michael to change my dressing every day. I loathe having to ask for help with little tasks. I abhor being the cause of all of this drama.

All these little complaints, day after day, wear on me. I feel I'm an emotional drag and tend to withdraw from others as a result, which, I know, does me no good because I'm blocking out my support team. I regularly feel on the verge of tears because of what I'm putting everyone through. I know I have lots of things to be thankful for, and I'm trying to focus on these good things, but it gets harder each day as I'm worn down.

I need to move forward, but I must continue to be patient.

Tina