Today has been an exercise in endurance. Exactly how long can I lay on the couch with very painful bones and a nauseous stomach from the pain meds? Pretty nearly 13 hours so far. Ok, I was in the bed for a few hours. And lying on the bathroom floor for 10 minute stretches occasionally.
There is something surreal about lying in a cold sweat on your bathroom floor while your two-year-old cries and bangs to get in, listening to your husband on a conference call in the next room talking about some data types. And all I could think was "I am so happy the housekeeper came yesterday, this floor is really clean."
I don't mean to mislead you. I am doing fine. I am miserable. But really, I'm fine. I am hurting pretty good and the pain meds make me sick to my stomach and I am really, really ready for this round to be over already. But I am no more miserable than a cancer patient should expect to be. The chemo is doing its job and knocking back the cancer, I am not fighting a losing battle. Shit, I am not fighting a battle at all. There is no battle, I am the winner. Hands down, muthafuka, I am the winner.
But I have at least another day of miserableness. Then the sun will start to shine in my world again and perhaps I will get out of my pajamas for the first time since...since...I actually don't remember. Monday? Tuesday? Doesn't matter, does it?
Jackson is the sweetest boy. He doesn't like it when I am in my bed. He wants me to come out on the couch. If I try to lay in bed and read or sleep he comes in and stands there at my face and tells me "mama get up" and he turns my lamp on and off until I relent and come out. He doesn't pay a whole lot of attention to me once I am on the couch. He just wants me to be there. Sweet boy.