Six months into this I'm still not sure what it is that I need, but I'm continuing to try and figure it all out. Right now, I'm still trying to come to terms with the first part of the lyric.
Today I was supposed to be at the UConn football homecoming game eating grilled sausage dogs off dirty coleman grills, drinking Octoberfest beers in a coozie shaped like a jersey and circulating the tailgating crowd to bump into friends from all different groups. Tomorrow I am supposed to be at the Patriots Football stadium doing it all over again - pro style. Instead, I am home with a head full of phlegm, a garbage basket full of yellowed tissues and a cough that just won't quit. Plus, the usual painful colorectal fabulousness that comes at this point in the chemo cycle. Yes, I am bitter.
I can no longer burn the candle on both ends like I used to. I guess one thing I have learned is that my body takes more precedence than I ever thought it did. My desires are mere dust in the wind when up against the demands of my bodily functions. I knew that being out in the cold for several hours was not the anecdote to getting myself past this virus. The last thing that I need to do is set myself back and not be well enough for my final chemo treatment - I think that if I hear the words "we can't treat you today" on Wednesday I may launch into a screaming fit - two-year-old tantrum style. So I made the responsible decision - not without much whining and even some tears as Craig left the house this morning for the game.
You'd think that I'd treasure time for personal growth and introspection - a good excuse to lay on the couch, curl up and watch a movie. Well, I hate it now. I've had more alone time than I can take. I want to be out in the world galavanting so, so badly. I feel like I've missed so many barbecues this summer, so many Octoberfests, so many chances to hike, to run, to travel to see friends.
Instead, I feel like "Bubble Boy" constantly worrying about getting sicker, catching some weird bug, eating raw meat that will send me to the hospital. As much as I love our home, sometimes it can feel like a prison. It's one thing to be tucked away for a weekend with a cold. Admit it, most of us secretly like getting a little sick because it gives you an excuse to just veg, read those books that you've had stacked up, catch up on DVRed shows. But when you've felt like shit for six months that guilty pleasure you experience is lonnnnnnngggggg worn off.
I know that someday when we have four kids, I own my own consulting business and the book deals are pouring in I'll be aching for alone time. But isn't that always how it goes? You don't know what you've got until it's gone, right?
So today I'm trying to focus my brain and take advantage of this time together with just me and me - plus the Kleenex and the germ-X. I'm headed out to get Craig's father's guitar strung and try to teach myself to play. I have some canvases to paint for our bedroom wall. I have LOTS of books to read and I'd like to try a bubble bath - I've never taken one in our house.
First, a walk with Sammy to get the creative juices flowing then to CVS for another box of Sudafed ... maybe a little shoe shopping and a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice lattee along the way ... maybe it's not so bad after all. There'll be more UConn football games, but never another chance to get myself back to peak health to give my body the best chance at standing up to this final shot of ABVD. What fun is drinking OJ at a tailgate anyway?