Trust me, I whine. I get sick of needles and shots and feeling like I have been hit by a mack truck just as much as anyone would.
I still have a box of Christmas decorations on the floor.. my kitchen garbage stinks like rotten chicken and broccoli... I need to vacuum, iron, wash cloths, dust, organize, buy a camera, mail about 7 Christmas presents (!), wash the dog and clean out the litter box. But I can't go there. That bus left and I wasn't on it. I am writing and that is what I have to do right now.
Some days are harder than others, it is just a process. When I begin to feel overwhelmed, I remember the people who do not respond to chemo.
I see the look in my friends and family's eyes when they see me.... and I know that I make them remember someone they lost to "C".
Total strangers will look at me, recognize that due to the bandanna on my head that I am bald, and I can see the whole story in their eyes... the sadness of loss and the wisp of a smile... sending me encouragement.
(I forget sometimes that wearing a scarf is sort of a big sign... but I tried to use a curling iron on my wig... and, uh.... it just doesn't work. Unless you like patches of short and curlies on your head.)
I realize how incredibly lucky I am and then I decide that I really don't give a damn about stinky garbage or dust. I am going to work and having a great day and tonight, I will have dinner with the sweetest man in the universe and build a fire (kind of a rarity in S. FL) and be happy.
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