Le misérables

I studied french language. I even ‘took’ a semester abroad, in Southern France. At the ripe old age of nineteen. Now that is a story. For another day. Better yet, a chapter in my book.

Sadly I am far from fluent. Although, when I spent a week in Montreal several summers ago, I realized that given complete immersion, it could come back.

That said, I never did get the gendered aspect straight. Which is my why of saying that it might be la and not le in my title.

I digress.

So generally when I think of myself as miserable it is of an existential variety. Yesterday was the real deal.

The tips of my fingers are splitting, a side effect of the new medication. Currently I have eight open cuts. They hurt like the devil and of course are situated such that doing anything that requires digits is difficult.

I also had that crown replaced yesterday and….mucositis would appear to be a side effect of my current therapy as well.

You know how tongues are. They can never mind their own business. Mine just kept poking around yesterday’s doings in my mouth and I came away with sores all over the front of my tongue.

When I got home from the dentist (an hour and a half drive each way–I refuse to switch dentists even though I no longer live in NH) I took a three hour nap. Was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I got up long enough to eat some crackers, drink a glass of water and a few sips of red wine and then I just said fuck it and went back to bed. That miserable.

Fortunately I slept and slept well. My emollient slathered fingertips are somewhat better. The tongue, yet a bitch.

It bites, y’all (that was my tongue, making a joke). Just wish there was a way to cure cancer that didn’t come with so many flipping side effects.