To all my loved ones, friends, fabulous rockstars, "my ride or die" - so to speak, I'm still going, I'm just not going at the speed of a fully functioning Fabulous Rockstar, more like Mick Jagger form than Adam Levine, let's say.
I have been discharged from Palazzo Palliative, as you probably know. It has gotten to the point that my Team believe more regular interludes in hospital would be recommendable, so we shall see how that pans out.
I am at the lowest I've ever been in my disease, yes, I've been told I'm dying before, but my body has never actually felt like it's dying, now, it feels like it's dying. WTF how would I know what dying feels like? I suppose I'm just guessing, but I'd say this is a pretty good guess of what it feels like.
Whilst in hospital I had a urinary catheter inserted, that was fun, I've had many a catheter and I have a very bad history with them, this time was no different to others.
I had to rush to the toilet to do number two's.......small moment of appreciation for the bowel movement that is so rare........back to the story, so I grabbed all my bits and pieces, catheter, pain driver, I was connected to the IV, so I was very weighed down. I jumped up and the next thing I felt like I'd been coat hangered, my catheter tube got caught around the end of the bed and I slammed face front/belly front onto the floor. I could hear Mum had run into the bathroom and was shouting if there was blood, was I ok? The emergency alarm was hit by my nurse and everyone ran from all angles. After assessing the situation they picked me up, the catheter had dislodged and let's just say I was in a bit of pain. Vicki my ever loving nurse removed the catheter for me and disaster was averted, that makes it four times I've now popped a catheter balloon, by pulling it out, now that's skill. Dad, it wasn't your fault, I tripped.
Unbelievably my bladder started working again, I must have nine bladders, everyone expected I probably would be spending my remaining time in palliative and not getting back out, but, I am sitting in a holiday house that my Aunty and Granny have organised. I went to bed to the sound of waves crashing on the shore last night and as I prayed to God last night, to give me the strength I needed to wake in the morning, I woke to the same crashing waves, life is beautiful and that first breath in the morning is fucking amazing.
I am probably under 30 kilos now and my appetite and nausea does not allow for eating, two mouthfuls and I'm done. I have been told to stop focusing on eating, as loss of appetite is part of this process, you get tired, you lose appetite and then you pass, but seriously who the fuck could just accept that? Stop eating, let yourself die, how about you stop showering, stop breathing, exactly, three days in to a sweaty summer and I'll bet you'd be itching to get in the shower.
I get it, what can you say to a person who is literally wasting away, dying before your eyes? See you in the flip side, just doesn't seem to cut it.
Thanks for the love Fabulous Rockstars and please don't be concerned with my blog post intervals, I promise I'll keep you up to date, just not every day. Can I also ask that you spare a thought/prayer/vibe for my parents, loved ones and family, as they're going through this journey, just as I am.
Stay Fabulous Rockstars ❤🤘🏼