Inching forwards

New day and I can hardly believe that I have a) made it out of bed and b) managed to munch my way through a whole piece of toast, to boot. I have even progressed enough to read (ok…looked at, rather than “read”) some of Saturday Guardian (delivered by my very own Fairy Godmother) so things are perking up. Eyes still a bit puffy and smeary but if they can manage some of the newspaper they will, I hope, sharpen up a little as the day progresses.  I can only imagine that opening my eyes rather than having them zip-locked (as for the past few days) must be helping!

These post chemo days are just hateful, soggy and ill-formed like I am in my summer pudding slump. At least I can sleep and have been doing so for 3 days and 4 nights. It scarcely sounds like a suffering of biblical proportions but is plague like enough for me. Hard to know whether it is better to know (and get used to?) the abyss that is about to come or whether it was better when I was caught unawares. Truth be told that neither is “good”. For me the inability to use most of my faculties – to read, write, listen, talk, taste is elemental. On the plus side, I retained the the feeling of all the hugs – real and virtual all around me which seem to be carrying me through when I just want to give up. Thank you…

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