It was just an up and down week. And I think that is just the way the weeks are going to be. I had hoped that after stabilizing the grief there might be a productive, positive, period of incandescent recovery.
Instead, it is just a series of days. Some are pretty good. Some pretty bad.
I also thought we'd march through this with some dignity and grace. But that was too ambitious. We'll simply march through this.
It is hard to explain how limited we are. One example is our plan to travel to Florida for the holiday weekend. Warm weather, sunshine and a pool were calling us south. We struggled for weeks to finalize the plans. It finally dawned on us that it was just too hard. It would take us too far from the little arc of our post-diagnosis days.
We are socializing, living, working and recovering in this minature version of our lives. We see fewer people. We exhaust more easily. We stick around the neighborhood. We went out to dinner last night and we were tired and ready for bed well before the check arrived.
I thought I'd feel triumphant heading into the fourth and final of the first series of chemo. I don't. Instead I'm anxious and tense.
Today, to comfort ourselves, we puttered around the house most of the day. Brunch with friends. Naps for everyone. All four of us went out for a drive in the snow and a trip to the grocery store.
I continued a little ritual of mine. I've been spending the Sundays before treatment making Ian's baby food. Today was sweet potatoes, green peas, yellow squash and pears.
Tomorrow is a full work day. Tuesday is the last of the tough series. I have a few weeks to catch my breath and then 12 quick weeks of the "easy stuff." This will take us through Jim's birthday, Miles' birthday, my birthday, our anniversary. Through Spring. Not sure what the groundhog saw, but I see a tough Spring ahead for us.
