cancer – day 561

Now that makes sense, this tenor started as a baritone. His lower register has some depth and richness, but his upper register lacks the brightness of a natural tenor, so he just sounds shrill and forced to me.

I love music, but after 10 bars I was ready to escape. Ouch, my ears. And the pulse of the excessive volume is spiking the neuropathy in my hands and feet, such agony! I have to get out of here!

Ah, finally I escaped to the hallway, beyond closed doors, this is more tolerable.

Of course I’m here in Dad’s place, with three of Mom’s friends while Dad’s resting home from surgery, unable to drive and pick me up. Hateful, hateful neuropathy burning, spiking, stabbing my poor hands and feet. Sometimes I can’t stand it.

Yesterday my mom was filling the ice pack for dad’s shoulder and a bunch of ice chips fell on the floor. No big deal, she wiped them up from the linoleum and it was forgotten. But then I walked past the refrigerator and there must have been some ice chips still on the rug. Because I fell down as if I’d stepped on several sharp blades. I had been walking on my heels as is my custom at home to avoid the worst of the burning in my feet, so it felt like daggers slicing like needles up into my heels. And even after I fell down the stabbing was so intense I tore my socks off, which of course had icy cold water on the soles. OMG it was awful. I felt sick the rest of the night from the nausea I got when the pain was so excessively bad. It’s the same way I feel nauseous right now, after the piercing volume vibrating out of the microphones sliced through my fingers with each overexerted over-amplified shrillish vibrato.

Feeling music flow through you can be a wonderful thing. This, however, was about as far as you can get from that joyful experience of music.

Post cancer treatment survival can be such a miserable existence. And here I’d thought I was getting along pretty well lately. Sigh.