This image was on the cover of the Economist, 9 October 2010. I love the headline ("Grow, dammit, grow!). Sorry if that's offensive. I think a lot of stuff in my life is offensive right now.
That encapsulates how I feel right now. The command form. I wish I could dictate so many different things. Eat. Don't hurt. Get some energy. Get stuff done. Get out of bed.
And of course, I wish my hair would grow. It actually is. It's peach-fuzzy right now. I had a patch of dark hair in the back, like a reverse bald spot, but it rubbed off, just like a newborn baby's hair. Now it's growing in and it itches. But. It'll fall out again--probably starting next week, based on the chemo schedule. My head just gets so cold that I keep it covered. I even sleep in my Northface polar fleece hat with underarmor. Love it.
Today I went in for my chemo shot, and I just hurt all over. I'm dizzy and my head pounds--all side effects of zofran so I don't have nausea from my chemo. We stopped for lunch at the snack bar before my next appointment. And I sat at that table and cried. My panino was gross, I dropped a penny at the cash register and my head was swimming as I bent over to pick it up (why did I think I needed to retrieve it?!?), and I had to go to the bathroom and the closest one was a long ways away. And there was a creepy guy who kept looking at me. Jealous of my head, I bet. Then my gyno appointment ran slow and I didn't think I was going to make it in that waiting room. But my sweet doctor came when she heard I wasn't feeling well and put me in a room so I could lay down and gave me a hug. I have the most amazing medical team ever. My chemo nurse today--the sweet Irish woman--gave me a big hug, too.
I hate that chemo kicks my butt. I hate that my days are so inconsistent. I love that I can come home and sleep. I love sleep. I love my bed. I love my neckwarmer. I love my dear friends and nurses and doctors. And now I'm going to sleep, dammit, sleep.