I couldn’t sleep last night. Had insomnia the last two nights, really, but it was severe last night. I was awake at 3:00 a.m., tossing uncomfortably every few minutes. It was one of those nights where my usual calming sources (the Sleep with Me podcast, Unwiding Anxiety audiobook, Christmas music, etc.) were exceptionally irritating instead of comforting.
It happens, you know. My efforts to quell the anxiety backfire sometimes, and I haven’t quite figured out how to deal with those moments yet. When my brain won’t STFU, and I feel all alone in the deep, dark night my anxiety is sure to hit peak bothersomeness.
Shush. It is so a word.
Anyway, I rose from bed about 8:00 this morning with my heart racing. I was dizzy and seeing stars, breathing rapidly and shallowly and trying to maintain my balance.
They happen frequently enough, these morning anxiety attacks, that it’s easier to count the mornings I don’t have one than it is to count the mornings I do have one.
Though I can’t make any scientific assertions because the brain tumor makes everything a giant diagnostic question mark, I am of the opinion that starting my day with this habitually absurd amount of anxiety is what makes me feel deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed 97% of the time.
It seems a logical conclusion because some days I feel less anxious and have fewer or less severe physical symptoms of anxiety. If it were the brain tumor, life would be more consistent, I think.
Speaking of anxiety (because that’s what I do now) I realized that after a couple of Thanksgiving style gut-bomb meals Wednesday and Thursday, I didn’t have my usual mind-racing anxiety about IBS-D, and it was really nice. I did however, have some bloating and discomfort and a mild (for me) flare of IBS-C.
I think my body just reacts anxiously to eating anything now, because that’s what I have trained it to do, however mindlessly. I’m working to detach those pavlovian connections, but it’s proving to be harder than untangling Christmas lights.
(There will be swearing along the way, but I’m determined to come away with the win.)
For instance, last night my self-talk was: if you don’t poop by Tuesday, you can take some Senekot. However, it might be helpful to see what exactly your body knows how to do without intervening.
A couple of hours ago, I pooped. (I still need that T-shirt. LOL!)
I don’t know if you all are tired of me talking about poop, but I just can’t take it for granted. Literal impossibility right now.
I also don’t know how you guys are taking this post on the whole. For the record, I am feeling hopeful but concerned I’m coming off a total downer.
As usual, I have a million more things to write about, but I have to rest. I hope those of you who did the Thanksgiving thing this week had a genuinely good holiday.
To help keep the lights on here for another year I need 5 people to share a page from this website with a friend who might like it.
Not one to bury the lede on this kind of thing, I’m happy to report my scans show no cause for alarm. The brain MRI is particularly comforting, noting “no significant change” in my brain tumor. At Barnes, this was just called “stable.”
The neck/chest/abdominal CT isn’t as easy for me to interpret. There’s a lot going on in there, but it’s unclear what exactly. Nothing points clearly to more cancer though.
There’s a line about how easy it would be to biopsy a couple of lymph nodes in particular, but three of those suckers have been biopsied already. My first thought was, “yeah no thanks.”
I’ll see what Dr. Oncologist says in a couple weeks when I see him, but I’m over being chopped and tenderized.
I was telling Dan about the radiologist’s remarks for biopsy and he laughed out loud. “Read the room, Radiologist.”
We know the man’s just doing his job, and we’re glad he’s doing it, but just…
I’m on biopsy hiatus right now. I’m so done with that pointless noise that Dan is done with it too on my behalf.
***
Though the CT and MRI were done on the same day, the reports were released to me in MyChart a couple days apart, giving me the opportunity to be anxious about what that meant.
Did the MRI show growth and they weren’t going to release the report until Dr. Oncologist saw it first? Or is it just a more complicated area? Is the radiologist for the brain stuff out of town?
I realized what I was doing (feeding my anxiety monster) and took a moment to recalibrate. “Girlfriend, you don’t know. Give me that Monster Chow and stop binging. Go breathe until you feel better.”
*I used to count the MRIs, but I stopped. 30-ish is a guestimate because I don’t want to go into my patient portal and count. Not my idea of a good time.
There’s about to be some more candid talk about IBS and things, as I think the title suggests. If that makes you uncomfortable, go with your gods.
Before I was diagnosed with this brain tumor, I would meditate to deal with the pain. I’d imagine—and maybe I’m showing my age here—a game of pong being played in my neck. Every time a pain signal went traveling to or from my brain, I’d reject the little ball of hurt and send it back down to the bowels of hell.
I was really good at that meditation because with my struggle for the right diagnosis, I had to be. It was very effective. Too effective.
In fact after a few years, I didn’t need to do it anymore. I managed to put up a permanent barrier to the pain without really understanding what I’d done. And so when the pain came, it wasn’t processed, it was deflected. To my neck, my shoulders, my GI tract where, as you know, it has wreaked all kinds of havoc.
Somewhat serendipitously, I recalled these meditations, and wondered if constructing the pain barrier was part of my problem. I imagined tearing down the wall, fearlessly letting pain signals break through but also letting blood and oxygen circulate as they should.
I visualized my breath running from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Holy fuck, you guys.
I immediately had the sensation that my brain was connected to my tumor that was connected to my guts that was connected to my brain that was connected to my head that was connected to my feet that was connected to my muscles…
You get the idea. I felt whole instead of just possessing a bunch of disconnected parts. Without self-awareness, RAIN, and mindfulness (thank you Tara Brach and Dr. Jud) I might not have recognized what was happening.
“I am not scared of you, Pain,” I found myself thinking. Then in my best Pat Bentar, I belted, “Hit me with your best shot. Fire away!”
There have been a number of physical improvements to go with my mental ease. For instance, during yesterday’s MRI, I had a couple of moments where my shoulders relaxed. I yawned on the ride home from the hospital, and at home I farted into the toilet bowl so loud and long and resonantly that Dan giggled like a twelve year old from the bedroom.
My parasympathetic nervous system is still in there!
My colon has always known how to digest y’all. It just wasn’t getting the go-ahead from my brain because I had diverted it’s power and asked it to process my pain and fear instead. A couple of things it has no clue how to do.
It was like I’d been asking a penis how to insert a tampon when a vagina was right there.
After a nerve pain flare (I have had brain surgery and the muscles in my neck are finicky) I’ve been living in a world of hurt for the last few days and unable to sleep because of it. That’s the context for my review of 1906 brand Sleep Drops Plant-Based Pills.
Technically an edible, these medical cannabis pills do the trick for my painsomnia though pills aren’t really of any use to my taste buds.
I paired one pill with Nervive Roll-On*, turned on the Sleep with Me podcast**, and slept very well. These will definitely be restocked in my medicine cabinet.
As I have mentioned before, I’m a lightweight when it comes to weed. I only took one pill (a half dose) and these were my results.
Today’s review is for 1906’s Sleep Drops. Check out my other edible reviews.
Cannabis Type: I don’t know, honestly, but I’m guessing Indica.
Price: $5
Dose: 10 mg
THC: 5 mg each
CBD: 5 mg each
CBN: 2 mg each
Taste: There is none, and coming from a cancered pill-taker that’s the highest of compliments. Many traditional medicines taste awful after they’ve briefly touched the tongue. But these taste like nothing at all, which I sincerely appreciate.
As pictured below, these pills have a special coating and are shaped like a teardrop. (I wondered why they were called Sleep Drops. Mystery solved.)
Overall High: 1/10
Or should this be 10/10? I don’t know because I was sleeping, and it was glorious.
Time to Relief: 35 minutes. I know the package says 20 minutes but my metabolism is slow sometimes. Thirty-five minutes is still lightning fast in my book, and I like the idea of not needing to set a timer two hours before bedtime.
Duration of Relief: 10 hours
I slept through the night, otherwise an impossibility. I got up at my usual 2 am timeslot to go to the bathroom, but I fell back to sleep right away. Also not possible these days without medication.
Worth noting, too, that I didn’t wake up feeling groggy or hungover.
Pain Relief: 8/10
I slept soundly, so it had to be good. This is a best guess at how well it actually did though because I was not consciously aware of my pain. All I can say with certainty is that I got 9 hours of sleep (10:00pm to 7:00am) and that never happens. I woke up with diminished pain too.
Munchies (Intensity): 0/10
I was asleep. I didn’t crave any food, and I wasn’t tempted to sabotage my non-flared IBS by eating more than my digestive tract could process.
Couchlock (Intensity): 0/10
I was asleep. So that feeling that I should get up and do something fighting the feeling that I can’t get up and do something wasn’t an issue.
Time Dilation (Intensity) 0/10
Did I mention these Sleep Drops put me to sleep?
Additional Notes:
These pills are made with RSO and hemp extract. Full-spectrum cannabis oil (RSO) seems to produce superior results for me, and I know others who consume edibles say the same thing. I think they are definitely worth trying, especially if you can get your hands on the sample packs. No long-term commitment or huge expense if they don’t work for you.
I think they make a version of these that are all-hemp and therefore would be federally legal and available for shipment. These were purchased from my dispensary in a legal state (Illinois) so I can’t vouch for the non-weed stuff.
I’m feeling aimless and sad this morning. Trying to choose a project and a goal to keep my focus on something rewarding, but not feeling the tug of any specific calling.
Election results are still weighing on me. Not because I am having trouble believing reality, but because I have been living it for longer than I want.
I’ve felt this way before. This is grief.
Recognizing these feelings for what they are is a balm of sorts. I mean, I know it’s complicated and recovery from mourning is non-linear. I know to expect I can’t expect anything of myself or my grief. That helps my anxiety, oddly enough.
Grief is uncomfortable but not entirely unknowable. I feel assured that this reduced appetite, heavy chest, and mopey posture will give way to the strong back and soft front of Tara Brach’s talks. In the meantime, though, things feel pretty grim.
I try to understand how a group of people can be so selfish they are willing to sacrifice their own freedom to manufactured fears that don’t exist and never will materialize.
Then I sit with my own anxiety.
Oh.
Maybe my project will be to accept instead of understand. The whys don’t matter sometimes, and looking for explanations is a waste of energy that could be focused on something else, something better.
I am reminded that being present is important.
Orcs will swarm by nightfall, but joy comes in the morning.
For several reasons, the election results triggered my generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) causing me neck and shoulder tension that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe and caused severe, immobilizing pain. I reached for a new edible, the NGW Dark Chocolate Raspberry Bar.
Anxiety is something I deal with persistently since my cancer diagnosis, so I thought I’d write this edible review in that context, deviating somewhat from how I’ve approached earlier reviews.
Today’s review is for NGW’s Dark Chocolate Raspberry Bar. Check out my other edible reviews.
Taste: Good. I prefer milk chocolate to dark chocolate, but I didn’t find this too bitter and it wasn’t heavy on that weed taste at all. There were real raspberry pieces with those seeds you experience when you eat fresh berries.
Overall High: 1/10
I kept taking bites of this hoping for something to work. It did help with my pain, finally, but it took a while and I never really felt high. It did eventually make me sleepy.
Time to Relief: 165 minutes
I tried this edible on an empty stomach, how I usually take edibles. However, I had been taking Betty’s Eddies chews for several days prior. There was no tolerance break, which may have influenced my experience with this product.
Duration of Relief: 8 hours
I slept through the night, which I count a win.
Pain Relief: 6/10
Worth taking, but the price is high when I factor in I had to consume about 12.5g of this bar to get any noticeable relief.
(The bar is smaller than others I have tried with only four 25mg sections. From approximately 5:30 pm to 8:15 pm, I ate about half of one section.)
Munchies (Intensity): 1/10
I ate a square piece of leftover pizza, and it tasted better than usual. I didn’t overeat or feel too hungry to sleep, and I didn’t have any specific cravings.
Couchlock (Intensity): 0/10
I didn’t experience couchlock at all.
Time Dilation (Intensity) 1/10
At one point I had a thought time was moving pretty slowly, but it barely registered. Since I was relaxed and ended up sleeping, I don’t know whether I simply missed the more intense time dilation sensations or if they were extremely mild with this dark chocolate raspberry bar.
Additional Notes:
The packaging mentions that their process involves less weed-y tasting extraction methods. I found that to be true, but wonder now if that process affects potency at all.
8:33 am: Iced coffee and Donettes for breakfast. I’m excited a little and anxious a lot. I voted already, so there’s nothing to do but wait.
20-year-old me thought elections were fun. Sweet summer child. What I didn’t know I didn’t know.
9:16: I might try to get a shower in today. It’ll be like an hour of something else to think about. I don’t feel up to it now, but I’ll keep checking in with myself.
9:49: One thing I hope future political aspirants take from this campaign: shorter election cycles are fine.
The Harris campaign arrived “late” and was a very disciplined masterclass in explaining platform. The Trump campaign announced “early” and was a dumpster fire at every turn.
10:10: I took a shower, and I am so proud of myself.
1:12 pm: Anxiety, exacerbated by showering, makes me cold and shaky, so I want warm fruit cobbler. I don’t have any, but I want some. I’m hungry.
1:26: No cobbler, but warm and salty mashed potatoes.
3:01: Dan’s watching election coverage and yelling at the TV already.
“They can totally hear me calling them names.”
3:18: Yeah, that’s not Melania. But I don’t think Trump knows.
3:37: I’ve been tempted but, I’m trying to pace myself. No watching overblown TV coverage until the first polls close at 6:00 pm EST.
4:02: Nibbling an edible. My last cherry chew. Trying to make it last.
4:22: Pizza, wings, and giant chocolate chip cookie ordered. Dan informed me the talking heads are acting like Texas might be in play this year. Trying to stay grounded, I remind myself that Trump has never won the popular vote. Never.
4:23: Musing about the moral failures of the Electoral College and why it needs to go.
4:45: Dan just informed me that Trump got served a summons in the defamation case brought by the Central Park Five. That’s beautiful. No notes.
4:50: I’m high and accidentally sent Mom a screenshot containing the adjective “motherfucking.” Oops.
5:35: They suspect Russia of the fake bomb terrorism in Georgia.
607: They called Indiana for Trump which is hilarious because GOP Hoosiers are like “IDK, I kinda want the guy who wanted Pence hung from a gallows to win.”
6:12 I’m too high. More later.
7:47: I can’t figure out how it’s this close anywhere.
8:24: My ears need Steve Kornacki to take a deep breath. Also feeling nauseated, so taking a break. Possibly related: Got an email from my dispensary about a big sale tomorrow.
8:31: Every time I pop a Tums I realize I was an optimist.
9:45: Forgot to write down that Cruz and Hawley are both total barf-fest Republicans.
November 6
4:13 am: I woke up to pee, and I am going to be sick. This makes zero sense. I fucking hate this fucking timeline. Fuck.
5:29: If this is hard for you, just know you’re not alone in your sadness today or your determination tomorrow.
6:13: If he hadn’t won the popular vote for the first time after two Cheneys endorsed his opponent and three generals called him a fascist, I wouldn’t be suspicious of shenanigans. I’d continue accepting that some people like to hate, think the leopards won’t eat their faces, and vote that way
To be clear: there are only a couple of days left. The election is now; it ends Tuesday.
I’m trying to remember not to hold my breath about what’s coming, but the anxiety that accompanies presidential elections in the US is not to be trifled with. So I often have to remember to breathe, as ridiculous as that sounds.*
Every time time I see the news about another Trump rally things get worse. Like him fellating a microphone in Milwaukee? What?
Now can we talk candidly about his increasingly uninhibited behavior? How ’bout now?
Can we agree that his rhetorical weaving is concerning? Sure, it’d be funny to me… if I weren’t terrified he’d sell the US to Putin for a tank with his name painted on it, some cryptocurrency, and a half a cheeseburger.
This is one of the problems for me personally and perhaps the nation politically: Donald Trump is so morally repugnant that he has made himself visually repulsive. In addition to turning the orange face and weird hairdo into a caricature of evil, now I’m revolted by the news because I have to look at his ugly face and hear his ugly voice constantly.
Eleven thousand seven hundred and EIGHTY.
Every time I say “eighty”—and that’s the year I was born, so, side note: there are a ton of triggers in a doctor’s office—I hear that phone call from 2020’s biggest, sorest loser in my head. There are things you can’t unsee, and things you can’t unhear.
I would be lying if I said I don’t wonder how much easier It would be to deal with my GAD if Trump and JD Vance were exiled.
I’m also still reeling from reading that piece in The Daily Beast where Jeffrey Epstein is reported to have said that Trump has no moral compass. I mean holy shit. If Epstein is saying that about you?
Cuckolding has (re)entered the political chat, by the way. I had to look up the definition because I couldn’t believe my ears, what with the brain tumor and being gaslit a few too many times.
But there’s the pettiness of the garbage truck thing and the McDonald’s thing too. Like, my dude, I don’t think you want to be drawing attention to the word garbage right now or showing the world you think fries are stuffed in the container by someone’s bare hands.
Trump’s claim that he’ll protect women raises more red flags for me—being promised this by a marriage counselor who did no such thing—too.
I am confident Trump will lose again, I’m less confident that he’ll acknowledge it. And that’s what makes me anxious.
* It’s not strange once you understand the fight flight and freeze response.
