Round 1, Take 3

Okay, I spoke a little too soon.  Whether it was the running around with Robert on Friday, or the chemicals catching up with me, or eating the wrong sorts of things – or all of the above, I have to be honest and say that I have felt pretty puny since Saturday.  I had no energy over the weekend, little interest in food (but still no nausea, thank heavens), grumbly guts, and a general feeling of malaise.  My tongue is weird, and the pads on my hands are raw, and sensitive to hot water, like a burn.  I’m really not fond of feeling punky and listless, and am tired of sitting on my bum for 3 solid days.  It’s been a bit hard to get comfortable and I have little ability to concentrate on books, puzzles, or other pleasant distractions at the moment. 

So, in an effort to make the most of a less than ideal situation, I decided that a change of scene and substrate might do me some good.  I have moved operations from the couch in the living room to my bedroom.  It is on the southwest side of the house, and the sun is pouring in.  It’s bright and cheery with its Caribbean colors and artwork and, even though I have an aversion to being in bed unless I’m sleeping or am really sick, I’m just perching atop it, so it doesn’t really feel like a sick bed.  I have my laptop, some good pillows for sitting up, a warm throw with a cat on it – literally – and a dog nearby.  Although I don’t feel on top of the world, I’m settling in and discovering how to make myself as comfortable as possible. I think the switch, for now at least, may help relieve some of the tightness and achiness I’ve experienced over the past couple of days, when I was literally curled up, a little too tightly perhaps, on the couch.

As each day passes, I expect to get better at this, and hope that I'll have figured out the best way to cope with all these little nuisances by the time all six rounds of chemotherapy are over!  In the meantime, I remind myself that things could be a lot worse.  I must admit that I am most grateful that they are not!

The Recovery Room