Monday, January 18, 2016

The Caffeine Separation

I am cancer free at the moment.  I still have at least two more surgeries in store, at least this year.  In the next two weeks I head for the hospital once again.  I'll be having another mastectomy, and reconstruction of both breasts using some of my tummy flab.  I'll be hospitalized for FIVE days, which is something I'm still getting my brain around.  I'm a terrible patient.

As if that weren't bad enough, they informed me today that I cannot have any caffeine for the next five weeks.  The nurse explained why in great detail. I could see her mouth moving.  I have no idea what she said. My brain was having a tiny meltdown. 


The rest of the visit was a blur, and I was glad that Larry was with me, since I was not in any condition to drive.  We drove over to the hospital so they could draw blood, etc., in preparation for the surgery.  Larry was asking me questions about the visit, but I was stuck.


I have a very consistent routine.  I get out of bed, turn off the alarm, go down the stairs and TURN ON THE COFFEE POT.  Then I get a cup and wait for enough magical goodness to drip into the pot for my first, and only cup of coffee.   I sit in the quiet before the rest of the house wakes up and sip my drink of caffeine, and then I start my day. 

Now that small joy is gone.  The quiet moment will still be there, but it won't be the same with a glass of water.   What's more, caffeine withdrawal will put me in a grumpy mood, and nobody needs to deal with the fallout from that.  I may as well put up orange cones around my desk.  

I need to keep track of the end result.  It's just a temporary separation.  I can go back to my normal routine after five weeks. It's easy to get caught up in these little bumps in the road on the way to healthy.  I should be used to the bumps, right?  I should just roll over them without batting an eye after all this time.  It's just that throughout my cancer treatments, I've tried to have as normal a life as possible, and my daily cup of coffee was part of that. 



  1. I feel your pain. I love my coffee. I'll be glad for this to be over for you.

  2. I hope you get through without the coffee okay.


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