It's Official. I'm a Chemo Zombie.

It's Thursday night, and I'm hard pressed to remember a thing I have said, done, or thought since I last wrote on treatment day. It's a bad sign, and I'm afraid it's a sign of things to come. I may be in this fog for awhile, and I'm hoping my husband, my kids, my family, and my friends will forgive me and not forget that I used to be concerned, intelligent and fun.
I know Brenda Walton and I went bicycling on Tuesday. Tadman came along in the bike trailer and enjoyed the ride. We stayed dry except for the time Brenda rode through the sprinklers. Yes, exercise does help lift the fog a bit, although it usually makes me more tired several hours later, but I like the getting outside and the moving, AND the companionship. Right now one of the biggest challenges is feeling out of the loop and content to forget the world, yet isolated, yet too blah to do anything about it. I'm pretty sure I must have slept some of Tuesday, because other than the bike ride and the Joplin ice cream social I don't remember a thing.
My mom and Heather came Wednesday and I was still in bed, but I got up to help them put laundry away and tidy up my kids' rooms. You can imagine how excited Tadman was to see them. He's so tired of me sleeping he even bit me today to wake me up! He was thrilled to see the grandmas (he calls them both grandma) and their truck. As this treatment goes on the service my friends and family provide is becoming more and more important. I can tell you, if my sister and mom don't come, that laundry will not get done and those beds will not get made and then my kids' lives will just get more and more chaotic. It's invaluable to have them come. The meals are invaluable. Every single contact I have is becoming more and more precious to me.
I had to take Parker to a doctor's appointment after school on Wednesday and after dropping him home where Kate, Tadman, and Hunter were, I went to the free makeover class for cancer patients at the St. Alphonsus Cancer Care Center. I was the only attendee, and there were 4 ladies there to facilitate the class. It was an uncomfortable situation, and disappointing. Maybe I expect to much, but here are all these great volunteers, willing and anxious to help cancer patients, right, but none of them want to talk about cancer. It's all just small talk, chit chat, and now put the eyeliner on. Most of them are in this game because they had a mom, a sister, a friend with cancer, yet there seems to be some huge barrier, some vow of silence. It's weird. They didn't ask me one question about my lifestyle, my diagnosis, my kids, whether I worked or not, or anything else. The makeup colors were a little obscure, too. I now own a lovely shade of orangy red lipstick if anyone would like to try some.
Attending the class was probably a luxury I shouldn't have afforded, because I came home to Hunter asleep on the couch, Parker and Kate AWOL, and Tadman wandering around alone in the backyard with his pants off. Fortunately later I figured out everyone was in good hands with the possible exception of Tadman.
Today I woke up only to have lunch (except for when Tadman bit me). I went to Flatbread Pizza Company in honor of a sweet friend's birthday. It was a nice meal with a great salad. I can't say how much more I prefer going out to lunch than making my own now days. Anything I have to expose myself to long enough to make is disgusting to me by the time it's ready to eat.
All I need is a nanny and a personal chef and this thing will be doable, huh?
I was fortunate enough to have all my meals out today as this evening I had the completely new experience of going to the survivor's dinner for the Susan G. Komen walk this weekend. I went with my friend Tammee and her sister and mother, both breast cancer survivors. The cool thing about the dinner, or one of the cool things, is that it's free for survivors, and you're considered a survivor from the moment you're diagnosed. The dinner included a silent auction and a live auction and was a big affair. It was in the large room at the Boise Center on the Grove and it was packed--mostly with women. It was an emotional evening for me, mainly because several women came up to me--since I'm bald it's pretty obvious I'm in treatment--and hugged me and told me how many years they'd been survivors. They just came spontaneously, offered love and encouragement, and made me cry. It all of a sudden seems like everyone has cancer, knows someone with cancer, has had cancer, or some version of the above. There were so many young women survivors there I couldn't believe it. Although it's an evening of celebration, there were a lot of sad eyes in the crowd. It's a brutal disease!
On that note, it's a really good day to count some blessings. I am thankful for all my friends who so willingly keep the meals coming. You are making a huge difference, especially in my children's' lives, because I can save my precious energy to proof read papers and review homework assignments instead of cooking. I am thankful for my friend, Sarah, who showed up at my house last night with some beautiful lilacs in a Jack in the Box cup just to check on me--and she doesn't live even remotely close by! The lilacs make the house smell great, Sarah. I'm thankful for a comfortable bed and a warm, comfortable room, and for Sesame Street to keep Tadman momentarily entertained. I'm thankful I have such a good and resourceful little boy who entertains himself so well, and I am thankful for the guardian angel who watches over that boy when I'm not doing as well as I should. I am thankful that I'm not in pain, and I am able to rest when my body is tired. I am thankful that my doctors are optimistic that my cancer can be cured and I can live to see future weddings, graduations, and grandchildren. I am so thankful for my husband's work and our insurance so I am able to receive treatment. I am thankful to live in Boise which looked beautiful downtown tonight with a clear sky and a full moon and the train depot on the bench to the south as we were leaving the Komen dinner. I am thankful for all the times I'm changing diapers, watching sports, reading books to kids, and all the things that make me feel like a mom and not a cancer patient. Thank you to all of you who make contact with me often and for one more moment keep me from being a chemo zombie.