Note to Self: Be Kind and Tender

I am reminded of my doctor's advice from last week. "This is not the time to be taking care of anyone else. Go home and take your medication. I'm sending you home to be comfortable until we know for sure what's going on." If I had cancer, I'd know what those words mean. But I don't have cancer, what I have won't kill me but some days I may wish it would. I've been adjusting poorly to this new way of living. I'll admit it. I feel lonely, a little rejected and isolated, but that could be the medication. It makes me nauseous, dizzy, fatigued and without appetite at all. I have bleed through nerve and bone pain. I up the dose as I'm permitted and I am dozy and feel yucky. There is no way to figure out what I need, so I go with the moment. I guess that's the point. I'm waiting for prior authorization and that may take a couple of weeks. I read the posts of others who may have to wait a year for treatment so feel guilty that I'm even mentioning my wait at all. I think we all have to live however we can, waiting on what treatments, results, or simply diagnosis are coming. Each deals with it in different ways. I have my husband, kids to call for a chat, an elderly friend who is as lonely as I am at times, and my faith; last but foremost in my heart and mind. I will be okay and that actually surprises me. I am reading a book by Nouwen on solitude. He reminds me that being alone can happen, as it does often with me, in a crowded room. Solitude is a state of mind; comforting and spiritually deep within me, once accepted. I like solitude, in spite of the loneliness. I don't really feel alone anymore.