Between 10:30 Friday and 5:00 am today, I slept 45 hours. That’s out of 65-1/2 hours. FOLFIRI really, really fries me. On top of this, I spent yesterday afternoon and evening being horribly depressed about everything — cancer, relationships, general health. After the post-surgical break and my flurry of social and professional activity at Renovation, I now feel like Atlas once more shrugging the world onto his shoulders.
I do recognize the difference between situational depression and chronic depression, having experienced both in my past medical history. And Ghu knows I have enough to be depressed about. But I swear there’s a connection between how much I oversleep and my mental state. On the other side of the balance sheet, I weathered the weekend as well as I could hope. Sleep != nausea. We like this equation. Also on the plus side, I’m actually fairly rested and ready to go back to work here in a few minutes.
Hates it all, I does. Hates the nasty chemotherapies.
P.S. Not sure if there will be writing today. Need to see how well brain defrosts from chemo, and how much energy the body can really bring to bear.