When times get rough, alliterate.
Seriously though, this is not how I saw it all going down.
Snow days, power outages, hurricanes, 911–all gone through in the company of family and community. Hunkering down and making forts out of couch cushions and blankets. Lighting candles, having potlucks, hugging each other a little tighter at night. Whatever was afoot, we were in it together.
On The Beach was a dystopian novel from my youth that made a big, big impression on me. Nuclear annihilation, in the form of a radioactive cloud, spreading from continent to continent. In one moving scene a character returns to his home town only to find the skeletal remains of his parents in bed together. It was both horrifying but also comforting—to be in the arms of a loved one when the end came.
Now we are facing some sort of world wide threat which, though not Armageddon, is none the less quite serious. And I am in the unfortunate position of being both exquisitely vulnerable and most decidedly alone.
My friends and family are checking in and making sure my needs are met. It is so very kind and a source of great comfort. But it does not change the fact that I am now socially isolated.
Last night my mucositis was so painfully intense I could not fall asleep. I am also dealing with some sort of virus, but it appears to be garden variety as I have no cough and my breathing has not been compromised. However, physically I am in a weakened state. Dr. Lin called to check in yesterday and discussed the possibility of going further down in dose. Fortunately I have a CT scan prior to my next infusion, and that should help guide our decision.
In the meantime, I have decided that if I can get through the next few weeks, I can get through anything.