I've heard so many people talking about the bravery of cancer patients as they faced their ordeals--how they kept their spirits up along with the spirits of their families, how they smiled even through the nausea, how their valor was unflagging.
Well, I guess that's not going to be me. I did not know this, but apparently I'm a pussy. I'm sitting here about to go into my all-day appointment with an IV drip, and I'll tell you right now that I'm feeling thoroughly sorry for myself. I can't even imagine what this process must be like for people who have needle phobias. I don't (not yet, anyway!). But give me time.
The worst of it is that my short-term memory problems have not eased. I was just heading back to the kitchen for breakfast when my husband informed me that I'd already eaten. What?!! It is really disappointing to be told you've already eaten--specially when you don't get to keep any happy memories of doing it!
And I'm worried about reading materials. This is going to be a long day. Send magazines and brainless mysteries or sci fi!
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