This cancer thing has brought me into some degree of celebrity, thanks to the efforts of some former CRCers, who I will not embarass by name. Nonetheless, I appreciate your aid in bringing my cheery gospel of "it's just a dread disease, not the end of the world" to a larger audience.
And it really isn't the end of the world; I still maintain that the new Warner Bros. cartoon will prove much more harmful to my long-term health and happiness than anything involving some small number of rampaging mutant cells.
Especially after my news of yesterday, which still gives me a warm and fuzzy, can-do Hardy Boys-style, America in the 1950's, we can achieve anything! sort of rush. What's odd is that, two months ago, I would have been devastated to hear that I would need to be in chemo for nine weeks. And now? WOO-HOO, IT'S NOT TWELVE! We take our victories where we can.
Thanks to M. Deline and Mlle. Reeder, for paying me visits today. As rip-snorting as chemotherapy is, it's really good to have someone there with me.
The bad: Jade poked a hole right through my vein on the first time, leaving a small geyser of blood to deal with; and right now, I am so damn tired I can hardly type. Which is to say that I, Timothy Brayton, all of 23 years of age and a recent college graduate, will be asleep by 10:30 on a weeknight. I am sorry to have failed you all. Good night.
One last thought before I leave - as of today, I have been to the hospital on 12 separate days for chemo-related drugs: 9 full days, 3 partial days. After today, I will have another 12 days: 6 full, 6 partial. If that's not good news, tell me what is.
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1 comment:
If it makes you feel any better, I'm not even on chemo and I'm 23 and have been to bed by 10:30pm several times in the last month.
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