Okay, I'll write!

It is difficult for me to describe the small subjective effects of the little white daily chemo pill. Most days I take it between 1 and 2 pm. 15 to 30 minutes later it hits. My head gains a jello sensation - no, harder like a memory foam mattress. I get a little wobbly and do not feel safe driving. Most days about an hour into it, I have to get horizontal and some days actually fall asleep for 30 to 45 minutes. Rarely longer, and more frequently I just linger in a semi sleep mode.

Numb or flat are the best words I have found to describe an encompassing mental and physical sensation. I will have moments, maybe minutes of spark but not fire, just a wisp of smoke. I forget what I am doing many times a day. Recently the effects are stretching into more of each day and I feel them in the mornings a little, even before today's dose. If this stuff works, I will be happy with several times the impact on my head and my body. My immune system is down: slow healing, a persistent cough from a cold I had 2 weeks ago. I have an ingrown toenail for the first time in my life. The hairs on my fingers, hands, and parts of my arms and legs feel like I got too close to a fire.

Good grief, this goes on and on, such is my life today. Except for the good parts. They still make up most of my moments. My daughter graduating was big. My sister is in town for eight days. She went on a twelve step call with a sponsee and me yesterday. Maybe the guy will stay off heroin, but Gina and I shared the spirit of giving together in a way that gave her a sense of what my life in recovery is about. We feel closer. I have not shared this kind of time with her . . . ever! And it's a treasure.

But the small things give small bursts of steady joy that make daily life an engrossing experience. I have ridden the new light rail from Tempe into central Phoenix a couple times. Feels like a real city living within earth friendly parameters. The people riding mostly seem friendly and happy; ready to engage in banter and discussion. Lots of smiles.

Ever eat a seedless grape, the red skin snapping into the soft sweet heart of a small little delight? Whoever designed this man altered morsel also designed the man/woman who figured out how to make it seedless. That designer also is on my side whuppin' the cancer. I feel pretty good about that!
Bill