Today is chemo infusion day. It’s been 17 weeks since my first treatment. It seems so long ago. That was in the beginning of October and we’ve had Halloween, a Zumbathon, my daughter Megan’s 25th birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my daughter Rachel’s 20th birthday. My symptoms and side effects haven’t gotten much better, but rather, more familiar. That’s an odd thing to contemplate, considering conceptionally (is that a word? did I spell it right?) no one ever wants feeling bad to be familiar, but I think it makes getting through it a little easier.
I woke up Monday morning and rolled over in bed. Light was just starting to come through the window, which meant I had slept later that I realized. As I flopped my arm out of the now too hot covers, I noticed I was wearing a pink bracelet with my name on it. I was so tired the night before I must have missed one.
Writing releases the thoughts you didn't know you had.