Look ma, no hands! Get up in the morning, the room appears
to be moving far less rapidly to the right than usual. I walk. I don’t stagger.
Well…hardly. I’m bouncing through my day…shower, dress, treatment, consultation
with The Dave (now my oncologist's official name) in high spirits. Enjoying my
increased mobility.
And The Dave is happy with treatment results so far. The
symptoms are less severe and he’s given me a “maybe not” when I mention it’s
helping “until the next thing comes along.”
Maybe not. Maybe not a next thing…for longer than I’d hoped.
Alright then! I grasp Heather’s arm less often, feeling as
puffed up with pride as I must have when I started to master walking the first time. Hands off! I’m doing this myself!
It’s a good high energy day.
But towards evening, the vertigo increases and so does my level
of denial. Coming in from the balcony, I move too quickly and lurch into our
enormous philodendron – sending it flying across the kitchen. Earth spews
over the floor, table, standing fan, chairs – gives off a rich earthy smell. It’s
the kind of smell I love although not necessarily one I’d want issuing from our
table and chairs.
With the room having resumed it’s usual merry-go-round
motion, I scrape earth up with a dust ban and start dumping into the pot, only to
realize the pot is broken on one side and at the bottom and instantly draining out the holes. I lug the big guy to the balcony and somehow manage to
bully him into a garbage bag. An hour later after wielding mop and broom, dust
vac, and cleaning cloths, I’ve managed to get up 95% of the dirt. Too woozy to
get it any better, I write Heather a confession of clumsiness and leave it on
her bed. Sweet dreams. Your roommate is a danger zone.
This morning I have broken nothing so far. But sitting on
the balcony, I spot two sea gulls on the roof opposite – and as I watch them,
they morph into 4 seagulls. Not a problem! All I have to do is close my left
eye and the become 2 again.
Funny part is, as weird as symptoms get and much as they are
an irritation – some part of me shrugs and says, “Damn! Now isn’t that interesting!”
Olivia comes to visit soon. One Olivia I hope.
(She trails down the street, ringing her “all is well” bell.)
2 comments:
Oh, sweet girl - I wish I had two or four of you. You make me laugh out loud, even through the frustration and hard times. I honor your spirit.
I dito Cyn... Your blog should be come a book. I am serious. Everything you write, and particularly the way you do write it, is actually a treasure. Now don't tell everybody there still is one national treasure in the USA... keep that secret.
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