Yesterday was a tad rough. Day Jobbe got intense, I never took a lunch break or anything like a rest break. (Yes, I did eat at my desk.) By the time I knocked off (I work 6 am to 3 pm, Pacific) I was too tired to move. No energy for any writing or WRPA. I went to bed around 5, went to sleep around 7:30, and had nine fitful hours of sleep without pharmaceutical assistance.
I’m about to start sleeping in hat and gloves, due to the peripheral neuropathy. My body is warm enough under the covers, but my head and hands are out in the night air of my bedroom. It’s bad enough that I walk around during the day dressed like a homeless guy, but needing to do it at night… Sigh.
In theory I’m going to Fireside Writers today. I have a ride and everything. But I have a feeling I’m done with that, too, until chemo is over, given my tendency lately to go to bed sometime between 4:30 and 5:30 in the afternoon. The exhaustion really has settled at another level.
One reason I’ve fought so hard to hang on to activities and capabilities in my day-to-day life is my very early intuition that anything I gave up I was not getting back during chemo. So far, with the partial exception of writing time, this has proven true. I’m almost certain I’m done driving. This going to bed in the late afternoon thing is becoming normal. I don’t even go outside in my own yard anymore. I’m pretty much living on Rice Chex, oatmeal and soft pretzels due to my food tolerances collapsing. I’ve started bursting into tears from time to time again, after a long period of good emotional control. My sleep hours are slowly getting longer and longer. My world is getting ever smaller.
But less than five weeks until I come off the needle for the last time. I have to hold on to that.