Dirty Work

The work of undergoing chemotherapy treatment is unpleasant to say the least. After 2 weeks of pill-popping I find myself mourning the loss of energy and well-being that I enjoyed while on the hormone treatments. Creeping in on little cat feet (like the Sandburg poem) is fatigue and melancholy and queasiness and agitation. I don't know what I will gain by giving up my well-self for this unpredictable existence of "good days" and "bad days." I do know that I am moved to tears of self-pity and loss when I am lying in bed, weak and unable to do much more than flop around seeking a comfortable position, wishing for sleep to take away my sadness, as I was last night.

Like childbirth (another messy but necessary job), I forgot what it would be like and so when the should-have-been-expected side effects started I was taken just a little bit by surprise. So soon, I thought? What about my grace period? Not that it has been completely debilitating so far - I go to work, I have my Grammie time with Addison, I'm going to see Taryn in Maryland this weekend, I fervently root for the Yankees. But I start to wonder - what will I have to give up in the coming months? What will I plan on doing - and then have to unplan? Who will I fail by not being there?

I feel like I am closing in on losing this fight. But is that the chemo talking? Or is that reality finally finishing digging its trench into my brain? How do I talk/write about this out loud without scaring the daylights out of those of you still committed to reading about my journey. I imagine that for some of you, you open up this blog now with fear and trepidation that the latest post title will read "The End." (It won't, by the way. Keep guessing.) It may well be that I don't have many readers left; it's exhausting following my story I think. I know I'm tired.

Fear not, there are still plenty of smiles, the latest of which came in the form of red velvet cupcakes (see above) from my dear friend and neighbor Sandra. I am particularly touched by this exquisitely scrumptious gift because I know the hard work involved and the mess that is made when baking these (as Warren put it - your kitchen looks like a crime scene afterwords, with red dust and paste all over everything). My night last night was difficult - my morning was sunny. Thank you Sandra!

Blessings and Love to All.