Creepy Crawly

Inspirational song: Time Out of Mind (Steely Dan)

Throughout my recent illness, I’ve had the chance (misfortune?) to watch a lot of television. There was a horrible ad that was in circulation often early on that made my skin crawl every time it aired, even when I managed to look away and mute it in time. Recently they started putting it on again. I’m not really sure what drug it was, and I think it was for a condition called atopic dermatitis. I don’t remember the common name, and I don’t care. I’m getting fidgety and freaked out just remembering the ad, and I want this post to be over quickly. The ad shows a woman having symptoms that make her itch, so they used CGI to show ants crawling on her skin or bristly hairs growing on her clothes. Ugh. I can’t sit still as I type. This ad ranks right up there with the worst ever, like the beer and soda ads on radio that are mostly loud drinking noises. I wish things like this were illegal.

This morning I started having an itchy reaction to something, mostly on my upper body. I thought maybe my robe was just due for a wash, so I threw it in the hamper and showered. Then the long sleeve T-shirt I pulled from the closet, one I hadn’t worn in months, did the same thing. I kept scratching my shoulders, and at one point came back with a long blondish hair, probably stuck on something in the closet from before I went bald over the summer. As much as I react to my own hair (yes, it makes me itch like crazy) I don’t believe that was the whole problem. I started getting bumpy skin all across my arms and torso. Eventually I dug out a diphenhydramine and gave myself a quality nap. It calmed a lot of the reaction, but I worry now that sleep will be hard to come by tonight.

Except here’s the problem: between the antihistamine wearing off and me writing about crap that makes me itch all over, it all has come back, with a vengeance. I don’t know what I’m allergic to, and I need this to stop. Another pill might be my only hope. Still leaves the mystery of what got me, though.

Goofs

Inspirational song: That Time of the Night (Marillion)

At some point, little mistakes start compounding and a string of them starts to feel like a catastrophic failure. Nothing that went wrong today was actually life-altering. Alone, each thing was barely day-altering. But after a while, I got the feeling I needed to stop and let the day reset. I can try again tomorrow.

We had to give Murray a second, more thorough bath than the one yesterday. When T came over to put Murray in his wheels for me early Friday morning, he accidentally tucked Murray’s tail under the cradle. After a whole day of us not noticing, the friction rubbed a big raw spot on his tail, and by Saturday morning, he had licked all the hair off of that end of it. (He can’t walk or control his eliminations, but he does have some sensation, especially in his skin. He knows when something itches or stings.) He had a light bath Saturday, and another one today. Rather than wait for the sun to warm water from the hose, the idea was to pull a kiddie-pool quantity from the hot tub. When the Mr opened the tub, he asked me whether I’d added anything to the water. I said I had asked T to put in chlorine last time he used it, but I didn’t know whether he did. The water was murky and smelled off (kind of swampy, kind of like feet). Mr S-P sprayed out the filters with some high pressure from the hose, while I pushed to just drain the whole thing and start fresh. It took me four tries to get the little hose to siphon correctly, but eventually it did. I let it drain into the yard, between the grill and the nectarine tree. It took most of the afternoon, but eventually it emptied. I wiped down the gunky sides with a microfiber washcloth, and used a towel to suck up as much from the bottom as I could, after the hose stopped working.

Before we started to refill, I grilled out our dinner, making the mistake of walking through the super slick mud I had just created, coating my pool sandals in earth and god knows how much Murray stuff that had ever soaked into that area. I stood over my brats on the grill, making unbroken eye contact with the squirrel who grabbed one of my tiny nectarines and ate half of it, staring at me, before he dropped it on the ground and went to another. You’d think they would be less rude, considering the bounty of food we provide the little boogerheads.

It got dark halfway through refilling the tub. I wanted to keep an eye on it, so I flipped the breaker back on to turn on the color changing LED lights. The control panel reset, and the recirc pump turned on before it was time. Air was in the system, and it chugged out pretty bubbles for several minutes while I tried to figure out how to shut it back off without flipping the breaker again. Eventually I called for help, and the Mr used the hose to push air out of the pump. I hope I didn’t damage anything. Then I went inside, thinking I had ages until it would be full. Next time I checked, the level was too high, almost to the valves that control the jets. We drained off another kiddie pool full, in anticipation of another Murray bath tomorrow.

I thought I’d unwind from all of my mishaps by settling down with my favorite single malt scotch (Bunnahabhain). I’ve only ever had the one bottle of it, the one I got to christen closing on the original Smith Park in Charleston. (I don’t drink often or in quantity anymore.) I twisted the cap, and it broke off in my hand, half of the cork remaining in the bottle. A corkscrew was no good. It was old and fragile and stuck to the neck. I had to use a vegetable peeler to pry it loose, and a kitchen strainer over our glasses for the cork chunks that fell in. Luckily there were only about three shots left in the bottle, so we drained it. I didn’t have to find a replacement cork. I did add a couple of ice cubes (don’t criticize!) and by the end of it, the errors of my day seemed much less annoying. Slàinte mhath.

Legend

Inspirational song: Somewhere Over the Rainbow (Judy Garland)

After a long year of seriousness and existential dread, we have arrived at the time where I gorge on escapism. Football season is in full swing, and the fall movies are starting to premiere. My college team had a bye week, so I convinced my daughter to go with me to see a movie I didn’t know existed a couple of weeks ago. Somewhere in the last four or five days, I discovered I absolutely needed to see Judy, the bio-pic about Judy Garland. We had no idea what to expect, having barely even seen ads for it. It was nothing like I imagined from seeing the trailer once online. It had more quiet moments than I would have thought for a movie about a famous singer. We enjoyed the heck out of it, but as soon as it was over, my daughter asked, “Does Hollywood just chew people up and spit them out?” It sure seems like it. Despite feeling like crying at the end of it, I really liked it.

It wasn’t playing at our local theater. We had a choice of seeing it in Boulder or Westminster. We went to the theater where we thought it was playing, and lucky for us, we got there really early. Half an hour before showtime, we tried to buy tickets, only to learn we were at the wrong theater. We had to get back on the highway, and drive two more exits closer to Denver. We sat at a complete standstill for several minutes ahead of the place where the highway had collapsed into a sinkhole this summer. We managed to make it to the other, bigger theater megaplex just in time, but we had no choice but to sit in the very front row. Even with seats that recline, it was hard to view the screen. Everything was super distorted, which was distracting. It was hard for me to play my favorite game (“Who’s that actor? Where do I know her from?”)

Someday this will be on HBO, and I can see it straight on. I’ll watch it again just for the chance to see everyone’s heads the correct size and shape in relation to their bodies. I may also view it differently knowing she was only 47 at the time the Renee Zellweger scenes were set. She played her like she was a much older woman. It actually felt like a body blow to learn her age.

Loose

Inspirational song: Crumblin' Down (John Mellencamp)

A few hours ago, I heard a guy on TV compare how rapidly the news cycles have rolled over each other this week, how dramatically different the end of the week was from the beginning, to when the Berlin Wall fell thirty years ago. That description has stuck with me. It's absolutely perfect. I remember being equally stunned at that time, as a young adult, watching the Wall come down. I was pregnant then, and I remember watching the news at my mother's house, imagining how things would be different for the baby waiting to be born. The world was suddenly unfamiliar and scary and more hopeful than I could ever remember in my young life at that time. The Berlin Wall had stood since long before I was born, and I could barely imagine that there was ever a unified Berlin before it, much less a unified Germany. Tonight's analogy pointed out that Berliners were afraid even to approach the wall a week before it fell. There were deadly consequences for trying to cross it without proper authority. But all of a sudden, citizens swarmed it. Then they climbed it. Within hours, they were taking pickaxes to it, tearing it down with their very hands.

For the last three years, an awful lot of people in government have been cowed into keeping some very big secrets. They were hiding bad behavior, and that is the kind of thing that burns people up from the inside. Keeping secrets like that is untenable in the long term, especially if someone is burying that sort of thing for someone else whom they might not actually like or respect. Leaks have been dripping out of the current administration all this time, true, but there was so much more under lock down. The analogy I'm thinking of now is when I've cooked something in my Instant Pot, and I come along and poke the release valve in a staccato pattern, until I feel like it's safe to flip it all the way open. Steam pops out in puffs but never actually takes the pressure off. Then once the valve is locked open, it hisses out in a cloud so huge I worry the sudden burst of humidity will delaminate my kitchen cabinets. In the last three or four days, some trigger has popped open the pressure release valve in Washington, and all the buried demons are hissing out in a cloud of steam.

I don't know where things will go from here. No one does, really. I'm fascinated to see what happens, though. I expect to be stunned, disappointed, angered, thrilled, saddened, and maybe even a little scared at the prospect of being thrust into the unknown. But never bored. Not at all. I'll watch the walls tumble down with nihilistic glee.

Don’t Wanna

Inspirational song: This Too Shall Pass (OK Go)

At no point during the entire day did I find inspiration to do anything. I mean anything. I didn’t lie on my bed, doing nothing but breathing, as if I were stuck in a coffin, no. I just didn’t want to do any of the things I did. There was no enjoyment, no enthusiasm. Every time I stood up and walked around, my muscles stayed overly tight and they fought me. I had to jump up every few minutes, because the Mr had several requests of me, and I also didn’t want to say no. But the moment he no longer needed my assistance, I plopped back down. I didn’t want to go anywhere, so I never actually put on pants. I ate only because my body demanded it, but I only chose things that required zero effort. It was just one of those days.

I found one thing I was willing to do for myself, in spite of being told not to do it. I eventually had enough of tight muscles, so I put a water-repellent moisturizer on my radiation-irritated scar, and climbed into the hot tub. I sat out there long enough that the lights in the tub shut off, and I activated them for another round. The warmth didn’t help as much as I hoped, but once there, I didn’t want to get out. At one point I smelled what I thought was someone smoking in the alley, but then the smell changed, and it made me think of being at an amusement park. It reminded me of cotton candy and midways.

As I sat and contemplated the images the smells were dredging up for me, it occurred to me what was happening. All day long, I had been fighting a migraine, but it wasn’t simply the normal headache kind, so I didn’t recognize it. It messed with all of my senses and made me grumpy. There was a headache too, but it wasn’t strong enough to stand out over my ridiculously stiff leg and arm muscles. Slowly I put the pieces together. All of the oncologists told me not to get my Botox for migraine injections while I was doing the other treatments. So when the Mr smoked meat for a chili cook off he is entering this weekend, one of my old migraine triggers hit me again, after years of leaving me alone.

I will most likely feel fine tomorrow. Probably. And in a couple of weeks when I see the oncologist for my next phase of treatment, I will ask her whether I’m allowed to go back for the migraine shots. I’m ready to resume them.

Flame Grilled

Inspirational song: A Whole New World (Aladdin)

Isn't there a brand of arthritis cream that uses the chemical that makes chili peppers hot as its active ingredient? Pretty sure I can figure out why. My fingers are soaked in that compound up to the second knuckles, and they sting like crazy...but in a really awesome way. I have the feeling that this would feel fantastic on sore muscles. I may have to try a tube of that arthritis cream, and see whether I like it as much as I imagine I would.

Dinner tonight for the game group was New Mexico-style green chile. I know I live in Colorado, and there's a local version of this stew, but I'm sorry, tomatoes do not belong in green chile. This time around, I didn't make a separate vegetarian version, and I felt bad for that, but I was just too tired after my long morning to put that much work into it. I had browned pork last night, so that I had one less step, and I'm glad I did. Dinner would not have happened if I'd needed to do it all today. As it was, I had to wait to start until I rested and scarfed down a sandwich from my local gluten free bakery and cafe (where I went after I learned the one I tracked down in Boulder today used oat flour in pretty much everything they made, and I was worried I'd get sick from just standing there, reading ingredient lists). I had a combination of peppers that I bought in the grocery store and some that we grew in our garden. If I had known we had so many Anaheim peppers hiding underneath the pumpkin vines that took over my yard, I would have gotten fewer at King Soopers. I have learned that roasting the chilies before they go into the stew is critical. I could have bought them roasted from stores or stands all over town, but I wanted to do it myself this time. I put them on the gas grill on my patio, and stood in unrelenting afternoon sun to blister and blacken all the peppers. I didn't realize this was a dangerous activity, until some of them split and the juice that dripped flared up while I was reaching in with tongs to turn the peppers. That added to the fun.

Once the peppers had been fire roasted and steamed in a covered casserole pan, I set about the tedious process of peeling the skins and chopping up what was left. It took me at least an hour from that point, what with all the breaks to come sit on my bed in front of the TV, to use the back roller to pop all my vertebrae that had squished down on each other and made me feel like I'd been compressed while deep sea diving. Standing over the cutting board, chopping peppers literally as well as figuratively crushed me. It would have been safer to do this with disposable gloves on, but I needed fingernails to pry the skins loose. If I had had any inkling that the spicy power of the hot peppers would have felt so interesting on my fingers for the rest of the evening, though, I might have rubbed a bit of it into my sore back muscles. Live and learn for next time.

As it was, the green chile was really good, and really hot. Maybe five jalapenos for one crock pot of stew was a little much.

Moving Fast Now

Inspirational song: The Tide Is High (Blondie)

Where does one start on a day like this? Maybe with saying I knew this would be a pivotal week, but I didn’t expect things to move so quickly. I’m going to take my usual stand, which is to say I won’t tell anyone how to think about what’s happening at a national level, but I think it’s undeniable that significant actions are afoot. It has been a bit emotionally exhausting to keep hearing the breaking news musical tags. I haven’t decided whether to try to sleep with the TV on. I probably shouldn’t. I have medical tests tomorrow, and I need to be awake enough to drive down to a hospital I’ve never visited before in Louisville. The news will still be there in the morning (and afternoon and evening...)

I’ve spent years following the news like I was planning on getting a PhD in this era of world history. I’ve tried to view it dispassionately and gather only facts, but I just can’t. I’m angry and tired and ready to live in a world where I can care about fashion or comedy or some other pop culture phenomena again. I used to watch The Voice, you know? I don’t even remember what that was like now. I was actually glad for a summer where I was forced to step away and focus on cancer treatment, because it was something other than political news. I had better have the freedom to absorb myself in painting or gardening or something much healthier for me by the middle of next year. I need it.

As for this week, I’m just glad I restocked on popcorn last time I was at Costco. I want to be happy that I bought a screw top bottle of wine, so I can go through it slowly, but I regret shopping off the “2 for 15” wall at the liquor superstore on Sunday. I’ll either need to buy better wine to drink alone in front of the TV, or drink faster. Maybe both. This week seems to call for both.

Knots

Inspirational song: Touch Me (The Doors)

This week is going to do me in. There is just so much going on outside of my small slice of the world. We are standing at another precipice, and I can’t predict which direction we will move, backwards or over the edge. Waiting is hard.

I am knotted up, and I mean that literally, physically. My muscles are sore, and that soreness is souring my attitude. I’m cranky, even when I’m trying to put on a happy face to the world. I don’t like taking painkillers when I can avoid it, but it’s much harder to do without them when my best non-medication coping mechanisms are not available to me. Before the surgery last spring, I put my massage membership on hold for six months. I wasn’t able to tolerate lying on the table, and it saved me money that wasn’t coming in while the condo was torn up. Not having a massage since March really drives home how much I was relying on them to keep me functional. I think the freeze automatically comes off my account at the beginning of November, and I will be desperate to jump back into a regular schedule by then. My worst fear is that Slow Hand will have carried out his vague plans to retire while I was gone, and I’ll have to find someone new. I do not want that, not yet.

T came over and used our hot tub tonight, for an extended visit. He has been working so hard on his kitchen remodel, and he has an open invitation to use it at his discretion. I was surprised that he and Mr S-P stayed out there chatting until after midnight, but they’re grownups who get to set their own bedtimes, so whatever. Do I sound extra cranky about that? That’s because I’m not allowed to use the tub myself for another week and a half. Why is it everything I am going through to make me healthy and cancer free involves denying me the chance to soak my sore muscles, so that I actually feel better? Stay out of it after surgery. Be super careful about non-sterile activities during chemo. Avoid hot or cold against the irradiated breast for weeks. No wonder I’ve had to resort to the occasional baclofen or glass of wine (not at the same time) to feel better. It’s all that I’ve got left (and during chemo, I didn’t even have the wine.)

Maybe I’ll set aside the blogging and let Athena make biscuits on my knotted up arms. She is inclined to do it right now anyway. It will be almost like going to see Slow Hand, but with claws.

Missed Chance

Inspirational song: With or Without You (U2)

Building season up on the mountain is coming to a close. There are a few weeks left before the snows come, and it's looking less and less likely that I will get to go up to the cabin this year. I had hoped to make one trip, but now I've lost confidence that I'll be able to make the climb this year. It's a pity. The guys made great progress on the place without me, and I wanted to see it once. They built the deck, and it looks amazing in photos. The steel roof is done, and the steel siding is halfway there. It completely changes the whole vibe of the cabin. It's like looking at a different structure. They started on the inside, during bad weather days, putting up insulation and interior walls on a couple sides. I wish I could go up with them to see it before the snows arrive.

Instead, I'm just waiting for the waves of fatigue to come and go. They promised it would hit me "next week," and I thought when I started to feel off days ago that was it. I'm not sure whether I've really entered the worst of it yet, or was today's sudden energy drain the last bad day? It's so confusing, and there's no one who can tell me for certain how this will go. It's different for everyone. I was totally fine through the early football games, cheering loudly with my neighbor and his girlfriend. Then, once the Chiefs' game ended and we started eating a late lunch, I lost all of my will to keep pushing. I went home and crawled into bed. Mr S-P was up the mountain, working on siding all day, so T had to come over and help me feed the dogs. I was too tired to go up and down the stairs to take food to them. On days like this, I have trouble reconciling the fact that last year I was hiking up to the cabin twice a week, usually carrying a small amount of building materials.

If I try to go up in early October, would I be able to make it up the steep section? I want to believe it is possible. I'm not confident in the likelihood though.

The Weekend

Inspirational song: September (Earth, Wind, and Fire)

I promised myself a day of rest, and for the most part, I got it. I watched a little football, I popped in next door to see kitchen remodel progress, I ate leftovers, and napped. It was what I needed. Other than a Costco run, I got practically no exercise. The walk around the store, pushing a super heavy cart counts, but not for much. I could pretend that I had deep thoughts, and write about some obscure memory, but I didn’t and I won’t.

I closed the day by listening to my football game on the radio (on the internet). Apparently PAC 12 network is getting harder for me to access. After nearly ten years, they still refuse to make a deal with DirecTV to carry the channel, no matter how many times people like me hint to customer service that we want it. I was offered a chance to watch it next door while T was out on a date, but when he tried to show me how to find it, it was no longer offered on Sling. Is it going to be like Netflix and Hulu, where you can only have it as a stand-alone for-pay streaming service? Because if it is, screw those guys. I like the radio announcer, and I can picture it in my mind well enough from his descriptions (although I do sometimes close my eyes when I really concentrate on the plays). Tonight’s game was as stressful as I could handle, with the teams running neck and neck in a high scoring game. CU pulled out a victory, but it aged me five years in three hours. No wonder the hair that is growing back after chemo is mostly white. I suppose what I listened to was better than the craziness in Pullman, Washington, though. I couldn’t see that game either (because of the same PAC 12 nonsense), but reading a continuously updated Twitter feed was nuts. As so many comments stated, imagine throwing nine touchdowns in a single game, and still losing. The final score was UCLA 67, Washington State 63. A basketball score. I wish I had watched it, in a crowd.

I’m going to give myself a few more days of absolute slack, and then I plan to work into more movement and more purpose in life. I lost more than a year and a half to illness, and it’s time to embrace wellness. I’ll be curious to see which recovers faster, my body or my mind. My money is on the body.

Over Easy

Inspirational song: Afraid of Sunlight (Marillion)

The week is over and the bell has been rung. Radiation is officially over. (I know, I know, it’s over and I *still* didn’t use a song from the album Radiation. I have a good reason. This is what they played for me on the table, right after the nurse told me to be as perfect with wearing sunscreen on the irradiated area as I am getting this blog out every night, which is to say, always do it.) I will be forever amazed at how easy this was, especially compared to chemo. If all I had had to do was surgery to remove the tumor and radiation, as the surgeon had predicted, I would have suffered intense impostor syndrome. It wouldn’t have felt hard enough for me to call myself a breast cancer “survivor.” Having done the whole thing, with years of pills and frequent re-scans yet to come, I will wear that moniker with pride. I did it. I might even buy some branded stuff with the pink ribbon on it, even though I was reluctant to do that until now.

As with yesterday, I’m continuing to have some side effects. I zonked out in my chair in between morning and afternoon treatments. My skin is sensitive, swollen, and pink. I am not enjoying having anything touch it, be it textiles or my own arm. Still, it could be way worse. I have to spend another two weeks out of my hot tub, while the skin is actively inflamed. Why does everything make me avoid the best non-drug painkiller I have?

In one short week, I really got to like the women who work at the radiation oncology center. Even if three of them were Nebraska football fans, they were still awesome people. When it was time for me to ring the bell at the end of my last session, they all gathered around and gave me hugs. Much more interactive than in the infusion room, although those guys were nice too. They just had more active patients there, whereas today I was the last person in the clinic who didn’t work there. Much like going to the dentist as a child, when they tell you to grab a toy from the treasure chest if you are well behaved and don’t bite the dentist, on my way out of the radiation room, they told me to grab a prize from a big basket. There were pillows and blankets made by church ladies with big hearts (the ladies, not the blankets), so I selected a small quilt. It had some squares on it made with a great peacock blue fabric, which called my name. I had moved one of the old chairs from my grandparents’ cabin up to the living room, and needed a cover over where the fifty year old vinyl had torn. I might end up keeping this quilt right there in the living room this winter, where it will be useful in its own right, and as a reminder of the experience I have survived— like a boss.

Cumulative

Inspirational song: I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got (Sinéad O’Connor)

Side effects of the radiation are starting to set in. As of last night, the cumulative effect of being nuked twice a day has become a bit draining. I’m less cheerful than I was 36 hours ago. My stomach is starting to protest anytime I consider eating. Wearing a bra is less comfortable at the end of the week than it was at the beginning. And it was really tough to convince myself to pick up a device and start to compose tonight. I really don’t want to write, but I can’t let myself go to bed until I do, so I find myself being a hostile witness to my own experience.

Some side effects are clearing up, from the summer of chemo. The soft, pale hair coming in on my head is probably a quarter of an inch long, maybe a tiny bit more. It’s still thin, but I can see it from halfway across a room when I see a mirror, so that’s good. I’m itchy in a few places that leads me to believe some body hair will come back too, which I’m okay with. I had people tell me my color is good, but without hair or eyebrows, they were noticing all along the condition of my skin (which has been excellent since I gave up the grains that were destroying it years ago). I had begun to sleep normally until the last few days, so that less of a victory to report. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with my nails. Each round of chemo dug deep channels across my cuticles, each one deeper than the last. As they grow out, I wonder whether the nails will stay attached as they reach the ends of my fingers. For a while, they were so sensitive, I couldn’t put on socks or pull up the covers in bed. I hope that doesn’t happen again, when they finish growing out.

I suppose I’ve kept my promise to myself, and now I can stare at the ceiling while I wait to see which wins, the fatigue that makes me sleep more often, or the sensitivity where the radiation has been going in that keeps me awake.

Look for the Good

Inspirational song: Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes (Jimmy Buffet)

For the first time, pain is starting to develop. So far, it's very mild, but it's possible that with four more radiation treatments, it could turn into something. It's warm enough that I can feel it through my shirt and somewhat thick bra (the kind that holds its shape when you set it down). The left side is noticeably hot. It makes sense. I'm radiating more heat than usual because I have literally been irradiated. It still doesn't register as an increase on the pain scale, really. I am merely more aware of it than I was before. I'm also starting to see my energy flag, as of an hour after this afternoon's treatment. Nothing to complain about yet, but I see where this is going.

Is it weird that there are parts of this experience that are fun? Talking football with the ladies who run the machines is cool. But also, riding the table as it spins around, up and down, clockwise and counter clockwise, that's honestly fun. It doesn't last long. Not even as long as a ride through the Haunted Mansion. I still enjoy it. Maybe I need to get out more. Go out on a boat or something.

My energy was good for most of the day. I got a lot done to prepare for game night. I made a pineapple upside down cake (although I was skeptical about the gluten-free mix that called for buttermilk, and smelled kind of icky). I painted figurines for the game, for the character who is a frog who can walk bipedally and is a monk, for my paladin and her squire, and for the character who is a cat who once was a sorcerer's familiar, who is now able to cast spells on his own. After all that, I went to a Rotary social at a cool restaurant where I'd never been (and probably won't unless they add more non-fish gluten free meals to their menu), and had a vanilla Old Fashioned while I chatted with my friends. By the time I dragged myself out of there, my energy was done, and I still had to come home and make the edamame spaghetti for the main course and play the game with everyone. I had a little trouble focusing, partly because I was wiped out and partly because there are so many people it takes forever to get through an encounter. When the night was over, I made myself do the dishes before I collapse in bed, but it was rough going not to give up early. I had to remind myself how much better it feels not to have dishes left over from the night before, to keep at it.

One of my friends has said a couple of times she's impressed by how I've handled this whole process. She says my attitude in tackling my surgery and treatment has surprised her. I'm not sure how I could have done it differently. Stayed home and complained? How would that have helped? I was home a lot, not doing much while the chemo did its thing, and that was just boring. I can't imagine staying home any more, or being cranky and difficult so much that I drive away the people who support me during this ordeal. That would have made all of us miserable. I'd prefer to do as much as I can on my own, and to accept the help people offer with gratitude and appreciation. If I missed my mark, I hope people tell me, so I can correct the oversight. And then I want to continue on with a good attitude.

Dose Three and Dose Four

Inspirational song: Season's End (Marillion)

While I was doing my table dance (as it were) yesterday, feeling like I was the center stage entertainment, I decided the one thing that was missing was music. This morning for my first radiation exposure, they asked me what my favorite kind of music was, so they could turn on Spotify for me. I told them I listen to just about anything, but if they wanted to search for my favorite, then they could look for Marillion, whom I was certain they'd never heard of. I was right. They had no idea. But they managed to spell it right when they searched, and as I lay there, waiting for the big, intimidating machines to start circling me menacingly, I heard the gentle refrains of Season's End start, the song my band wrote about climate change way back in 1988 or 89. It still sounds relevant today. I haven't yet repurchased my entire collection onto iTunes, after CDs became obsolete, so when it transitioned into Rich, I almost didn't recognize it. I probably haven't heard that one in almost ten years. When the techs came back into the radiation room, they asked me whether the music helped make it go faster, and I had to confess that it did. The third cycle went by in the span of two songs, a mere blink of an eye. I haven't decided whether to tell them there is a whole album by Marillion called Radiation.

I met the radiation oncologist for the first time this afternoon. Normally I would have met her a couple of weeks ago, before any of this got going, but she was away that day, and I met the man from Boulder who was filling in for her here. She seemed quite pleasant and encouraging. I told her how I felt like this was distinctly easy compared to chemo. We discussed fatigue and pain, and whether I was feeling anything yet that wasn't attributable to lupus. I'm pretty sure I'm clear so far. The effects of radiation are cumulative, so I'll probably be getting extra tired by this weekend. My main concern for now is taking care of my skin, which is super dry.

Time got away from me early today. By the time I got out of the shower, I only had twenty minutes before I had to be in the car, on the way to the cancer center. I thought I'd put a little extra effort into my clothes today, since it was also a Rotary day, and the rest of my day was going to be packed from morning until night. I was prepared to match my outfit, with a brown button-up over a yellow short sleeve shirt, and my yellow knit beanie to coordinate. I was rounding the corner at the first stoplight before I realized I ran out of the house without my hat on. I briefly considered turning around and getting it, but then I decided to brazen it out. This is Boulder county, I reasoned, and I probably wasn't even the only bald woman driving through my small city at that exact moment. I'm not that weird looking, by Boulder standards. I kept my chin up, and didn't hide at all. It was a little chilly this morning, though, and I am still glad that I have a thin layer of peach fuzz starting to show up on my scalp this week. It's almost autumn, and I'm going to want the insulation.

Rounds One and Two

Inspirational song: Private Dancer (Tina Turner)

The first two rounds of radiation are in the books. So far, it has been way easier than I thought. I was told it wouldn’t be bad, but it’s even better than people led on. Patients get to work with minimal supervision. We wave at the lady who sits at the front desk, go around and grab a gown from the drawer full of them, change and leave our stuff (including phones) in a locker, and hang out in the inner waiting room until our turn. When it’s time to go, after we verify our identity, we climb onto the table, while they make sure we are lined up correctly. Then it’s about five minutes of being center stage in an empty room. The table moves, and then the machine twirls around you. Three red laser pointer lights shine in your eyes, and for a few seconds at a time, about five or six times total, a white light on the wall on turns on, and there’s a buzz. That’s it. You don’t feel anything except your muscles tightening up from holding perfectly still. Wait, that’s not entirely true. I felt amusement at spinning around the room under mood lighting, half-dressed, in the worst champagne room ever. Maybe I need to come up with an exotic dancer name. “Next on the main stage... put your hands together for Semi-Busty Betty!” (Okay, so that sounds like the kind of stripper you tip with change. I never said I’d be any good at it.)

I was a little tired after each session, possibly from not sleeping well last night, possibly from the radiation itself. So far I am not feeling the sunburn sensation they all told me to expect. I put on aloe after the second round, but forgot for the first. It will become more important as the week wears on, I’m sure. I think my biggest regret has been scheduling it so that I have to drive through a school zone while the lights are flashing on the way there both times. I should have thought that one through better, because obviously leaving the house three minutes earlier to compensate isn’t feasible.

I promised my friend I’d write out the recipe for the sauce I made up yesterday, so I will conclude with that. It was really yummy, but my day was just tiring and anxiety-filled enough that I couldn’t get enthused about leftovers of it. If you didn’t read yesterday, this was a substitute for the kind of sauces made with cream of mushroom soup, specifically for broccoli rice casserole.

For about six servings, I sautéed a quarter cup of finely chopped onion and a stalk of celery (also chopped) in about two and a half tablespoons of butter until it started to turn translucent. I added a rounded teaspoon of minced garlic, and let it cook another minute or two. I added another tablespoon of butter, just to be sure I had enough, and sprinkled in chickpea flour until all the butter was absorbed, maybe two tablespoons. I let it cook for several minutes (to get rid of the icky raw taste), and then stirred in a heaping tablespoon of arrowroot powder. Slowly I added chicken stock, stirring constantly, until it was a smooth, soft paste. I switched to milk to thin it to a sauce. I stirred in a half cup each of sour cream and mayo, and then seasoned it with salt and pepper, dried basil, thyme, and nutmeg. For the casserole, I blended the sauce with about three cups of white rice (precooked), chopped broccoli, and shredded cheddar cheese. I baked it for half an hour at 350. My only regrets were that I used too much nutmeg (a little goes a long way), and not enough broccoli.

Hot Dish

Inspirational song: Touch and Go (The Cars)

It's been a tough week for the musical world of my childhood. Two larger than life figures left us in the last couple days, Eddie Money and Ric Ocasek. I sure enjoyed their tunes, from the time I discovered them in the late 70s. It was comforting to hear that people thought of them as kind, generous humans, and the stories that came out immediately after the news of their deaths were positive tributes rather than snotty "yeah, that guy," comments. My favorite memory of Ric Ocasek/ the Cars was the first night I heard Touch and Go. I'm pretty sure it was on one of those Friday night music shows on network television, and I was a little freaked out by it. I thought it sounded so punk, and at eleven or twelve years old, I wasn't quite emotionally ready for that particular genre. (It really wasn't, but that's neither here nor there.) That unease didn't last long. Within a year or two, I had fully embraced punk and new wave along with my rock and roll, and Touch and Go became one of my top songs of early teen years, partly because of that memory.

I've already benefitted from the work I did to sort and organize my pantry yesterday. When T invited us over for steaks and football, I was able to put together a side dish (or more accurately, a "hot dish," as his girlfriend from the upper Midwest calls it) entirely from things I already owned. I was craving broccoli, and I got it in my head I'd find a way to make broccoli rice casserole gluten free, without using a can of condensed soup. I looked for inspiration online, but when I got down to it, it was all me. Once it baked, it smelled like the best garlic bread ever. It was fantastic. I'll use this same version of "cream of soup" for green bean casserole this fall too.

My energy levels didn't last long next door. I was mostly enthused for the Chiefs game, but I had to leave at half time of the Falcons-Eagles night game. I'm doing well most of the time, but when my energy gives out, it just drops off a cliff, like it did tonight. I stumbled home, immediately put on jammies, and crawled into bed early. I start radiation early in the morning, and it's going to be on an intense, concentrated schedule. Making all the appointments will be challenging on its face, but the doctors and nurses promise that the real fatigue will come the week after. This is the last big treatment phase for a long time (hormone blocker pills and surgical reconstruction are yet to come), and I'm pleased that it's almost done. I've already switched my language from "cancer patient" to "cancer survivor," even though treatment hasn't concluded. Don't care. I can tell it's not in me anymore. Energy and hair and all that other stuff will eventually come back. I declare that the war is won.

Park Ranger

Inspirational song: That Smell (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

After the maid service last week, my house was so wonderful to be in...as long as I didn't get too close to the pantry or breathe when I opened the refrigerator. I could tell that there was a rotten potato somewhere in the tangle of food spilling out of the pantry, and I knew for certain that some chicken broth we had made in the Instant Pot from the remainders of rotisserie chickens had turned. These icky things weren't there all that long, but long enough for me to feel guilt over them. I had the whole day to myself, so there was no excuse anymore not to handle it. That pantry had been a wreck for months, but there were other pressing issues keeping me from sorting it. I ended up being very glad for something to focus on while I listened to the game on KOA, as it went from bad to worse for my team. I ditched things that had been open for far too long, like the sugary cereal we bought for the foreign exchange student last year, that was still tucked in there. I resolved to come up with a complete dinner for the Wednesday night group from what I already owned, so they can expect to have edamame spaghetti and pineapple upside down cake this week. (I'll task someone with getting some frozen gluten free garlic bread, to round it out.) The gang also won't have to encounter the stinky chicken broth from the fridge, for which they ought to be grateful. I held my breath as it went down the disposal, for as long as I could. That wasn't long enough. After I got my gag reflex back under control (you don't want to know how long that took), I found the strongest Febreeze I had available (Gain scent), and did two rounds of the house with it. Blech. If I hadn't done a single other thing all day, getting that task accomplished would have counted for saving all of humanity, and I could have rested.

The guys spent the night up on the mountain last night, and all of today putting the steel siding on the east side of the cabin. I took care of Barley and Hops next door, while Murray and Elsa went up for an overnight with their daddy. T had a new bag of special chew sticks, to entice Hops into his kennel for the night. I don't know what problem T has with putting Hops to bed. I went over there just before 10 o'clock, and he trotted down the hallway and stood outside his kennel, waiting for me to open it. I think he knows his auntie will always give him a treat no matter what, and he was so tired by then anyway, he was ready for bed. I went ahead and gave both good boys the treats, because that's the kind of neighbor I am. When I went back early this morning, there were no complaints from either dog. Not even a single bark when I came in the house. (Of course, as soon as I open the door, I always announce myself, so they recognize my voice.)

It was quiet and a little boring to be the only human between the two houses all day, but it was peaceful. The neighbor dogs, my cats, and even the fishes and squirrels were well-behaved for me. I'll go a little stir crazy if I get too many days like this in a row, but this one was pleasant and welcome.

Surrounded

Inspirational song: Stuck in the Middle with You (Stealers Wheel)

I'm getting pretty used to this absolute lack of shyness. Every doctor I encounter wants to see how things are healing. My top comes off without a second thought these days. Today was all about lying in the radiation room, in the same state of undress as the CT scan from Tuesday. They needed to get images and measurements in the exact place where I'll be receiving radiation, and the techs were in and out multiple times. I wasn't allowed to move, and there wasn't even the instinct to cover myself up with my arms anymore. I'm just numb to it all, much as my hands were after twenty minutes with my arms above my head, grasping a bar to keep still.

While I waited for my turn to go in with the machines, I had a conversation with the first nurse who did my preliminary intake last week. During our conversation about hats to cover chemo baldness, I told her how my sister in law had made me a gold cap to wear on CU game days. At the time, she gave me a saucy smile, and said "Go, Huskers." Today, when I saw her, I asked, "Will you forgive me for Saturday's game?" She actually had missed the first half of the game, because she and her fiance had surprise-rescued a little puppy. They discovered that the dog had swallowed a towel and needed emergency surgery to survive the weekend, draining money the couple were saving for their upcoming wedding. They made it back to the house to find CU zooming back from a 17-0 deficit to beat Nebraska, and they wondered how on earth their day could get any worse. I actually felt bad for them.

As I walked toward the radiation room, she told me the other nurse who had done my CT scan was also a Nebraska fan, so I said, "Then you need to see this," and reached back to untie the neck of my surgical gown. I showed them my Buffs tattoo on my shoulder blade. The third nurse, the one who was setting up the radiation equipment for me was ALSO a Nebraska fan. At that point I was totally outnumbered, and I asked them what they were doing all here, working in Boulder county. I mean, really.

I want to explain my photo for tonight for just a brief moment. Athena is as cuddly as she can be... most of the time. She still has flashes of ill temper like she had for the first few years of her life, when she trusted no one, and attacked any hands that came within range. She's lying next to me as I write, as always, and I kept poking her in the hip and calling her "Murder Floof," just to see the look in her eyes. I only got one shot at at catching it with the camera, before I risked losing fingers. So here she is: Danger Kitten, in all her glory. Enjoy.

Radiant

Inspirational song: Words (Missing Persons)

The determination is in, and I got the good news this afternoon. My radiation starts on Monday, and it will be the twice daily, focused beam they assured me I’d most likely be able to get. It’s the smallest dose I can get, and it’s much safer, especially since it’s the left side of my chest. The other, less-desirable option would be to irradiate the whole breast, which puts more radiation close to my heart. I’ll take a moment to be thankful that I qualify for the better course of action.

I go back in tomorrow to set up my exact setup, and get yet more topless photos taken. I totally do not want to see them, no matter what. But the primary radiation oncologist, who I didn’t see on my initial visit, needs to see my position before we kick off on Monday. Yay for her, I guess.

I shared my good news with my other oncologist this afternoon, when I went in for my first post chemo checkup. She will let me wait until after radiation to start the long term oral meds, which is fine by me. Before I see her again I get my first bone density scan, as a baseline. I also get to check back with one of my regular docs, on her advice, but I’ll discuss that once I learn a little more about the topic we discussed.

I told Mr S-P this morning that I think our coffee is broken. I had a whole cup of it, and still fell asleep in my chair for an hour. After the trip to the cancer center, where they drew blood (which always affects me), I had another long nap, and have been groggy ever since. Maybe I’ll just blame how hard I worked before today to get stuff done around here on a deadline. Sounds like as good an excuse as any for being too tired to take a picture for tonight. Before you ask, no, tomorrow’s picture will not be from my radiation test run. Nope.

Annie's Big Day

Inspirational song: Top of the World (The Carpenters)

Hang on... Has it really only been one day since I wrote last? That doesn't seem possible. Too much happened to be crammed into a single day.

I woke up early, as I promised I would, to keep decluttering before the Merry Maids showed up. I gave myself about two and a half hours before the beginning of their arrival window, and I used it all. I moved things, did laundry (sheets and shower curtains), washed the last of the dishes, and sorted about half of the piles of junk and important papers around the house. I had time to settle in my chair and drink about half a cup of coffee before they arrived, roughly half an hour into the window of opportunity. It was two women, with good attitudes and personable demeanor. For most of the time they were here, I just stayed out of the way. They tackled so much that I haven't been able to do in a couple of years. Sure they cleaned the bathroom and whatnot, but they did everything down to the blinds, ceiling fans, and baseboards. I almost cried when I heard the one lady cleaning the inside of my microwave. If I haven't spoken this part clearly yet, this experience was a gift from one of my closest buddies from college, as a way to support me as I'm coming out of chemo, and I love her so much for it. I'm hoping that when I am completely done with all treatments, and able to go back to work, I can bring back the same team, and have them work on the house at least a few times a year. I have come to admit that with my chronic and acute illnesses, I don't have to shame myself over my inability to keep up with everything anymore. It's okay to enlist help.

Once the lovely ladies finished their job here, I set about making a little bit of a mess, on purpose. Tonight was game night, and I had had dreams of Frito pie, so I made that happen. I made two different crockpots of chili, one with beef (and onions and garlic), and a vegetarian one with mushrooms as a meat substitute (and no garlic for my kid who can't eat it). Both had beans and black eyed peas, carrots, and a gigantic zucchini from my garden. Because my house was in such glorious shape, suddenly it didn't seem like a burden to wash the dishes and wipe the counters as I went. I actually enjoyed that part.

Bad weather moved in while the chili was simmering and Mr S-P and I were downstairs setting up the nearly-done game table. It sounded like someone was knocking over furniture upstairs. We came up to find that it was hailing, and doing it thoroughly. I'm trying to come up with a size descriptor. Marble sized hail, maybe? I stood on the porch for several minutes, watching it hit our cars, willing it never to get bigger or harder. The cars didn't seem to sustain damage. While I was on the front porch, the Mr was running around the back yard, trying to rescue a large handful of raspberries that had just ripened in the last day. For some reason he thought I would be surprised he was doing that. Um, nope. We've met. Not surprised at all.

So I mentioned that we were putting together the table. I don't know how we didn't have a "Hulk smash!" moment. The table was designed to split in half, so we could get it downstairs, and to provide stability in the center, we created a kind of tongue and groove support. It probably would have worked a whole lot better if I hadn't tried to paint it. That was mistake number one. There was also a spot where the support on the bottom of the groove was a tiny fraction of an inch too long, and it kept preventing the whole thing from lining up. I don't know how either of us kept cool enough not to just beat the hell out of it with a hammer. Eventually we ended up filing, sanding, and sawing off bits of it until it fit together well enough. Since it was a table purpose-built for D&D, the only way I could explain it to the gang was that I "rolled a one" for design. However, once the group arrived to play the game, they loved the table. I don't know how we pulled it out, but we did. In one short hour, I went from thinking I was going to turn it into firewood, to feeling like we made something very special for our dear friends. (Granted, I had to take a great painkiller and soak in the hot tub in between those emotional extremes.) I never did put on the trim to finish it up, and I'll wait until I can correct some of the mistakes before I do, but for now, I'm proud of what we did.

Unclutter

Inspirational song: I Am the Walrus (The Beatles)

Boy, it's a good thing I'm not shy. They gave me the CT scan to prepare my radiation therapy this morning. The tech spent about twenty minutes getting me settled and positioned just so, and then it was in and out of the machine for a handful of scans. After that, she pulled out a digital camera and took pictures all the way around to mark my exact position and show which bolsters and foam pads they used. Oh, and did I mention that for all of this I was completely topless? Yeah. Good times. Glad I just don't care about that sort of thing anymore.

The scans were necessary partly to locate the Biozorb marker where the tumor used to be. They will turn all this data over to number crunchers who work out the complicated equations and decide whether I can get the twice a day radiation for one week or do I have to do the long form, once a day for multiple weeks. I might know as soon as Friday what the determination is.

Going out, getting the scans, making a quick run to Target (where they had NO half and half, and I had gone there because they sell it by the half gallon), going to Rotary... I ended up wiped out of energy, which is unfortunate. I had a lot I needed to accomplish at home today, and I maybe got through just over half of it. When I woke this morning, I had table pieces on sawhorses and drop cloths in my kitchen. The floor was covered in sawdust and wood chips. I was supposed to declutter the whole main floor, because I have been gifted with a team of house cleaners for tomorrow. They will do a deep clean, but their job is not to organize my crap. I picked up a lot of big things that I don't want them to deal with. I had to take a lot of sit down breaks, but I got through the worst of it. If I put an hour or two in the morning toward clearing off my key table, side table, and a few other piles of clutter (that belong in the tool collection in the garage), I should be ready. I'm so excited for tomorrow. My friend who gave me this loves me so much, and I have elevated her to deity status in my heart.

All the heavy lifting of the last few days has made me hurt in places I forgot I owned. Lucky for me, I've healed enough from everything (particularly the port removal) that I could soak in the hot tub, stretching out all those locked up muscles. When I came out of the tub, there was a little fuzzy black face giving me all the guilt for not letting her go outside and play after dark. It's not the greatest photo I've ever taken, but it captures The Look well enough.

Urgency

Inspirational song: Paint It Black (The Rolling Stones)

There isn't much time left to watch paint dry. The table needs to be done sooner than later, so we can get it set up downstairs before the Wednesday game. In fact, it needs to be carried downstairs before Wednesday morning. I need to stay up late tonight, doing as much painting as I possibly can, so that the paint has a hope in hell of curing in time, before I set it on the carpet. Some bits are completely done. Some need help. Some haven't been started at all, like the quarter-round trim. Theoretically, enough has been done that we can use the table, but it sure would have been nice to present it as a fait accompli. The good news is that most of the people in that group know me well, and have seen me show up at events in a half-sewn dress, or have been given Christmas presents that are actually just raw materials and a promise. That we will have a table big enough to fit all nine of us in one giant rectangle of game play is going to be good enough for this week. Next week I'll worry about having the exterior trim fashioned, painted, and attached. (There isn't a stock trim in 1 1/4" widths at Lowe's. I'm going to rip down a 1 x 4, and sand the edges into a tiny curve. I don't see any other way. I also don't have time for it, not while the Mr and T are stressing about T's rotted subfloor under where his sink used to be, and how much moldy plaster they have to remove above it before the cabinets arrive next week.)

I had better get back at it. My hands are covered in black paint, so much so that none of my devices' fingerprint readers recognize me. I'd rather finish this up and scrub my hands just the once, rather than removing layers upon layers of skin six times over. I'll be up past midnight (not unusual) and up early to finish up (only mildly unusual). I should have my kitchen back to usable by mid-afternoon, and maybe have the sawdust and drop cloths removed before sundown. If I'm lucky, I'll have the whole thing set up and adorned before the gang arrives on Wednesday.

Cool It

Inspirational song: In the Air Tonight (Phil Collins)

Can you feel it? If you live within a hundred miles of me, you probably do. There is a chill in the air, and it is glorious. I had to pull a fuzzy blanket up over my shoulders to be able to write tonight without shivering. I love it so much. It's always such a challenge to survive summer every year, notwithstanding the particular challenges of this one, and when we finally cross that barrier and the nights are reliably colder I get so ludicrously happy. I'm at that stage right now. We are making plans for earthy, spicy foods, for pumpkin carving (I have learned we have pumpkins in the garden already turning orange), and for spending football game days together with the gang. It couldn't be a better time for us.

We spent most of the day next door at T's, helping him tear apart his kitchen (that was the Mr, not me), and watching football over loads of food that had to be brought in (that part was me). While watching one particularly rough play, I made a comment about how much tougher than me these young players are. T laughed and said, "Can you imagine Anne taking a snap under center?" He may have been teasing, but what he said was totally right. Seriously, one hit and I'd be on the ground, crying, "Bring the stretcher!" T said I'd stop the trainers before they touched me, asking whether they had touched bread before they got to me. He's not wrong.

While T's kitchen is a gaping wound in his house--an empty room with walls and floor partially ripped out, trying to find the source of a years/decades old water leak--I promised him I'd provide meals several times a week, so he's not stuck solely with microwaved burritos and fast food burgers. I had never in my life made a risotto (not sure I've ever eaten one either), so I tried it tonight. It was labor intensive, but not that hard. The results were promising. I made it with zucchini, onion, and garlic that I'd sauteed first, and finished it with some Parmesan cheese. I'll be playing with flavor combinations as the cold weather settles in. I'm particularly looking forward to cooking with some of the aforementioned pumpkin, and maybe a Ras el Hanout seasoning. It might work, or it might not. It's worth a try.

Halftime Adjustment

Inspirational song: Excitable Boy (Warren Zevon)

What an emotional ride tens of thousands of Coloradans (and honorary Coloradans) went on this afternoon. Last year my team rejoined one of my favorite rivalries, and they managed to win in Lincoln, NE. This year the Cornhuskers came with revenge on their minds, and for the first thirty minutes of game play, they seemed to get it in abundance. Despite last week's score in the Rocky Mountain Showdown, I just didn't see a team with a fire lit under their butts. The first half of this game, I was convinced my trepidation from the previous week was justified. I predicted I'd be heading back from T's early, and that I'd pull off my Run Ralphie Run t-shirt before I went out in public. At the half, I came back home to do a little more painting on my half-finished game table, and when he hollered at me over the fence that the game was back on, I took my time to finish the section I was working on, and to rinse out the paintbrush in the sink. I wasn't sure I wanted to continue to watch.

I arrived back at his house four minutes into the third quarter, after Nebraska's first possession ended. CU was still down 17-0, but not long after I arrived, it became obvious that an entirely different team came out of the locker room while I was painting. Suddenly the CU quarterback learned how to throw the ball on time, not tap dancing around too long and getting sacked like he did in the first half. The play calling was significantly improved in the second half. And by the fourth quarter, they had come back from the dead to tie the game, twice. They went into overtime, and through a series of good play and lucky moments, CU eked out a win.

I will give credit where credit is due, Nebraska played very well. On the whole, their fans show a lot of class, especially the ones I know personally. There were a few times that emotions ran high, and the kids on the field got a little snippy. But a lot of energy was put into building up this renewed rivalry, so that was to be expected. I bet this team bounces back and does well over the course of the season.

I had plans to get things done tonight. Yeah, after that emotional roller coaster, I came home and spent the evening yawning as I came down off the adrenaline rush, and wondering how soon I could call it a day. Yet another Buffs team is earning the right to be called the Heart Attack Kids. It's going to be another one of those seasons, isn't it?

No Red on Game Day

Inspirational song: I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (v. Postmodern Jukebox ft. Rogelio Douglas Jr.)

I could have gone to Boulder tonight, if I had had any energy by this evening. It was a Stampede night, the second one of the season. The football team, band, cheerleaders, and a whole cast of superfans were on the Pearl Street Mall, making a whole lot of noise, and I missed it. Tomorrow is a big game for us, a throwback to my college days when we were still in the Big 8. CU plays Nebraska, and just like when I was in band in the 80s, there are going to be a whole lot of us very excited about this match. I have already promised myself I would dig out my last set of eyeglasses, so that I do not wear the red frames on game day. I will be wearing black and gold all the way down to my smalls, as I should be. Sko Buffs.

I worked on tiny details of things today, and I'm having trouble focusing my eyes now. I almost gave myself permission not to write more than "eyes are twitching, will write tomorrow." I'm trying to push myself to do more, but it's difficult to look at anything for more than a few seconds. It might be a precursor to a migraine, as this has been before. My eyes feel like they aren't completely in the right spots in my head, which has been a migraine warning sign for more than fifteen years. I'd like to hope a good night's sleep will chase it away. I need to be able to use my eyes tomorrow. Well, no, I don't technically need to. I can listen to the game on KOA radio and see it in my mind's eye. But I want to watch it next door on T's obscenely giant television, with him and his girlfriend who was also in the Golden Buffalo Marching Band, just much (MUCH) more recently than I.

It's a quiet night at Smith Park. The Mr is spending another night at his cabin, trying to finish the last few panels of the steel roof. He put the chimney vent into the steel panel, but ran out of battery power to cut the corresponding hole in the roof. Cross your fingers that the solar panels recharge the batteries in time for him to come down the mountain and see the game with us. These things are much more fun when they are group events. Also, I stole one of his pictures from the mountain for tonight, as I warned him I would. My pictures weren't very good today.

Travel

Inspirational song: Drive (The Cars)

I've done a pretty good job of keeping my closest circle of friends nearby during this rough summer. I haven't been completely alone. But it's undeniable that chemo is a lonely process. I couldn't go to a lot of places, and I missed out on seeing a lot of people whose company I would have enjoyed a whole lot. I didn't count, but I don't think I went to Rotary more than a half dozen times since this process started. I'm looking forward to finally being able to attend regularly again. And I stopped attending my monthly sales meetings at my brokerage after my surgery. It was just too much to keep up with, and invariably, I was feeling too ill to drive so far. I missed that group of people intensely.

I had done a few test drives over the last week. I made it to my rheumatology appointment under my own power, and when we went to a housewarming party, I drove two friends so that they could drink. I felt like it was a reasonable bet that I could make it to Fort Collins and back by myself. I was mostly right. I made it up there okay, although about five minutes late like I almost always am anyway. I was super happy to see everyone, and I hope I didn't overshare when they gave me an opportunity to provide an update after so many months away. (I have trouble finding that line, as most readers may have noticed.) I stayed through the whole meeting, and talked to some folks at the end. By the time I made it back to my car, I found myself having trouble catching my breath, and I definitely told the steering wheel how tired I was several times. I decided much of my fatigue must be because I had not yet eaten anything at that point, and promised myself to stop at McDonald's for some fries and a coke to perk me up. I was in the wrong lane for the first one I passed, so I kept going. I was in the correct lane for the second one, but as my tired brain processed the "lane ends" signs, I panicked and moved over, just in time to miss the turn into the parking lot. So I kept going, trying to remember where the next one was in Loveland. I stayed on highway 287 instead of cutting down the west side of Loveland, and somewhere south of Fort Collins, I began to get increasingly unfocused. It was more than a little scary, knowing how hard I had to struggle to keep my car going the correct speed, staying fully in my own lane. I had to talk myself through the whole trip, including turning a little early for the McDonald's, and meandering through the large parking lot, trying to figure out where exactly it was. I did pick up a little after getting some calories, especially some salt and sugar, but it started to wear off north of Longmont. I consider the whole trip successful, but also stressful and difficult. Still, totally worth it.

I didn't get as much done at home as I would have liked. I painted the primer on the underside of my table, out in the sun, and used up the absolute end of my available energy. I have been as still as possible ever since. After that, I had to content myself with cutting out the foam liners for the dice trays (in rainbow colors, because of course) while I watched NFL football over at T's. We shall see how soon I'm back in action, either accomplishing goals at home or traveling to social opportunities after a day like this.