When I decided to start blogging about my experience, I wondered if I would ever be at a loss for words. No, actually. However, that doesn’t mean I am always able to get them down on paper. My preferred excuse for lack of content is that I am just too busy going about the business of living to write; ie: having a fine old time.
Sometimes the opposite is true; I am either deeply depressed or feeling physically miserable. Either condition has a stultifying effect on me. At its worst, I lay on the couch in a fetal position. At its best, I am able to trudge through simple tasks like doing the laundry. I console myself with the notion that at least I am not bent toward self destructive behavior at these times—no excess, bingeing of any sort, and certainly no raging. Just an utter and totally useless stillness.
For the past week and a half, I haven’t felt very good, and by the end of last week I felt so crummy (low grade fever, congestion, and just hurting everywhere) that we went into Boston for a chest x-ray, blood work and a quick exam with Dr. Shaw. Alice (Dr. Shaw) extended my prescription for the antibiotic, but felt certain that this was primarily viral and that between chemo and my already low white blood cell count, my body just was just going to have a hard time kicking it.
So I’ve been drinking lots of fluids, coughing, blowing my nose and pacing about a bit. Of course at these times there is much going on in my head, but my thoughts tend to be quite weedy. And to not make very good copy.
That’s my long winded explanation for the lack of a proper update.