A recipe for living with cancer.

Have you noticed a pattern? When I first have the infusion and feel pretty rotten I manage to write prophetic and entertaining pieces pertaining to the way I feel. As I start to come out of the fog the pieces change their tone as the physical changes mediate and my mood lifts and I look forward to the fleeting days of feeling well. I write lots when feeling like crap and as I feel more human I write fewer pieces and when I am feeling good and able to do things, let the post go for days. So you can assume if there are no new posts, I am doing pretty well.

This time as I started to feel free of the shackles of chemo therapy, I realized one morning that I’d slept through the night, 7 hours without getting up. I normally get up once or twice a night but since beginning chemo I can’t sleep more than two hours without having to get up. Part of this is due to the massive hydration trying to avoid potential kidney problems as a result of the drugs. I have worn a path in the floor with the repetitive, get up, go, go back, sleep.

Most of the time Sophie avoids the path, but the other night I stumbled onto this soft fluffy mass in front of me. I think I may have had my eyes closed and I moved in slow motion as my toes hit this fuzzy mass. As I started to fall forward the fuzzy mass traveled up my shins to my knees, I fell further and found the fuzz at my chest and as I grabbed onto the fuzz it slipped gently under me and cushioned my fall. I lay on the floor my arms wrapped around Sophie without a bruise. She must have stood up as I fell and ended up being the perfect foil to my gymnastics. Should be a new sport for the Olympics…falling on dog!

So sleep has been one of the missing pieces in my feeling better. These last four days I have slept through or almost through the night and I’ve woken up with a clear head and the desire to get up and do something.

Over the last few days I made Oz a birthday cake in the shape of a dump truck with rice crispie hippos spilling out of it; I made Tom a strawberry rhubarb pie for his birthday he finally caught up to me and is now 60; and I made a tart for Brent to share with the folks at MCN. Today I am on a hunt for pickling cucumbers and tomorrow I will pickle with help from my friends.  Time is of the essence for fruit and vegetable ripeness waits for no man and certainly doesn’t coincide with my chemo treatments.  Before the cukes are gone and the local peaches are a sweet memory I must hurry to accomplish…something…over the next three days.

I am driven to accomplish as much as I can in these days I feel able, so I know you will understand if on the good days, I don’t post.

Thank you for all of your prayers and good wishes, cards, phone calls and thoughts –Thursday is treatment 3, only 5 left after that, 5 feels like a good number today.

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