A rainy day, a kat on my lap, a big fire in the fireplace. A good cry this morning. A visit from my loving twin brother who arrived with a new, sure to be famous (at least in our house) chili for dinner. Acupuncture relief. A wonderful nap with my furry companions. Laughter. Several supportive conversations, one from a sister survivor.
Talking with others who have gone through chemo certainly puts things into perspective for me, and that’s what I really needed this week. I’m not the only one who has had to deal with this, brilliant, I know. It definitely will pass. Brain fog happens, low energy, not knowing what one wants or does not want, not being able to tune into one’s body messages. There’s an end to this. Hope. Thank you, L,  for telling me more of your story that I may understand my own better, and see the forest through the trees.
SO, writing this blog is not exactly like journaling, but there is an element of exposure when I think of others, unknown but known, reading our story. All I ask is that if you get the sense that I’m slipping into brain mush and writing Dear Diary material, please exit and “Don’t pay attention to the (wo)man behind the curtain!”
Today is a better day.
I’m all caught up, I started from August and finished today’s entry.
Sleep well, sweet dreams.
I love you too much,
C
The best part of your account for me and I suspect most readers is your willingness to allow us into your world. Your honesty is the magic of it. No need to be the perfect patient. I love you and what you are doing. Keep going.
Love,
R
You are truly amazing–it was such a pleasure & privilege to spend the day with you and get caught up. I hope we can make that a regular gig. 😉 And as R said–no need to be the perfect patient–just be what & where you are–perfect you (whom I happen to adore!!!!) Lots of love to you & your crew–I’m looking forward to the next visit. xoxoxo
Love you!