3bb UNLIKE RAPUNZEL’S LOCKS, MINE ARE SEEN STREAMING TO THE GROUND

It was Tuesday 5/19/2021

 2 1/2 hour nose bleed—8:30-11:00 am

Hello Mayo ER.  Again.

My hair is falling out.  Again. In bunches.

No worries.  I expected this, because my body’s reaction to the second infusion of chemo was severe.  Hair grows back.  Perhaps rather than salt and pepper, this time—silver!  Or rainbow!!

This week’s chemo was cancelled.  No surprise.

Oncology agrees with my plan—if I am well enough, next week, to have chemo (made up of one drug rather than two), and if the less harsh nature of that single drug proves exceptionally unkind to me then chemo and I are done.  Finis.  Kaput.

If that happens then, over these next several weeks, our focus will shift from tumor shrinkage to my strengthening in preparation for the removal of the rest of my affected lung.  This surgery will prove tricky since the tumor is near to my esophagus, which answers why all of the doctors involved hope to see chemo shrink the silent invader as much as possible before removing this leiomyosarcoma wholly—hopefully!

I’m still exhausted.  Couldn’t wait to get home from Mayo (nose bleed resolved) on Tuesday at noon.  Today’s post composed from my bed.

Knowing that many months will be spent in my bedroom recovering from this next serious surgery, I shopped on line until a summer weight quilt and a winter weight comforter (comforter—get it?) were found, both of which match all of my criteria.  If matching our sheets and pillows was my first criteria and if finding a great sale was my second then here was my third—the color of and pattern on each blanket had to feel so gentle to the eye as to soothe my soul each time I’ll feel need to slip into bed, rest my head on a silken pillow and cocoon as comfortably as possible while my body’s natural ability to heal itself continues to take place.

Though several weeks have passed since ordering, neither comforter nor quilt has arrived, as of yet.  Good thing my spirit has leapt over hurtles with colors flying and passed impatience by a nose.

Truthfully—placing comfort aside—my spirit felt slightly annoyed when my brain, being a body organ, offered the whole of me no physical or mental energy to attend my Shakespeare class via zoom, this past Tuesday. afternoon.  As my brain’s natural capacity to process a lively in-coming conversation concerning the classic genius of The Bard feels far more taxing, recently, than does my intuitive capacity to float a post ever so naturally from within my wearied head, I am finding that conversing demands more energy than is true of writing, which tends to feel like turning a faucet on.  And off.

Though my strength of spirit remains intact, my emoji feels too tired to smile until after my nap 👩🏻😴Annie