One more day at the Chemo Lounge, tomorrow.
Five more radiation treatments, after today.
Can’t get done soon enough. I’m praying for re-gaining enough strength to drive to Dallas for Thanksgiving, and for enough regression in the throat area to enjoy just a little bit of Thanksgiving dinner. Just being there will be enough for me, though, even if I have to drink this horrendous shake garbage (smells like a chocolate or vanilla feedlot.)
This week, it all seems to have hit me, the accumulation of effects. People have asked if I’m putting on a brave face here at TFG, and the answer is no, this is straight shooting. This weekend, though, the kids and grandkids came down for a visit, and I over-extended myself physically. Really wore myself out, and it’s carried over to this week on top of it being five weeks of Chernobyling and toxic drips.
That’s fine, though — the mental and spiritual joy of watching my grandsons kick a soccer ball around the backyard, or saying a little prayer for me, or squabbling with each other over toys…well, that’s the biggest reason I’m going through this stupid radiation & chemo business in the first place. It was a good reminder of why to bother. Otherwise, it would be off to the fishin’ hole with a truck full of beer, and adios.
Apropos of nothing but a desire to feel somewhat productive again, here’s an ancient & great Frank Zappa song that jumped in my head about 4am this morning: