I have been sick, very sick, over the weekend. I know that I am the Caregiver, not the care receiver, but my body missed the message. I was laid low, and now I'm well enough to reflect on it. Being sick sucks. Being sick in Cancerland sucks even more.
I began to feel bad on the evening of Day 3. Chemo patients know what I mean. Day 1 was chemo. We count to Day 15, when chemo is scheduled again on Elaine's particular protocol. Day 3 has been the beginning of a series of bad days most often in our limited experience. Or maybe we just try to quantify stuff like that in our futile attempts to believe that somehow we can plan and control the Big C. We cannot.
Anyway, this particular Day 3 was also our family's declared Christmas. We were celebrating early before Ron heads back to WV. We could have waited until.Day 4, but it seemed wise to move ahead while Elaine's side effects weren't too bad. The day was a flurry of shopping, wrapping, and cooking. In the midst of it, I had to lie down. I didn't want to, but I had to. I had trouble forcing myself back up but I did, and we had our lovely roast and opened presents and stockings. Then I announced that I was done and collapsed in bed.
The next day was Saturday, and I was sick all day. I ate little and accomplished nothing. On Sunday, Ron called a friend and decided to leave suddenly. I was too sick to be involved. On Monday, I was well enough to go after my prescriptions. On Tuesday we were both sick of being cooped up here, plus we needed to mail our Christmas cards. Elaine wanted to send them from Christmas, Florida, so we made a trip there and to my parents ' and grandparents ' graves. We were both feeling okay.
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