It’s day 10, nadir day when everything is supposed to be the lowest of the low, and I am out of bed. I had coffee and eggs this morning, and I’m not doubled over in crampy pain. I spent most of yesterday out of bed too, rewatching “Deadwood” with John. [If you haven’t watched it and don’t mind constant profanity, check it out. I am utterly delighted by it again.] I discovered two missions going into this round: to walk every day, and to stop tracking the every move of side effects. I skipped walking yesterday after two bad bloody noses I didn’t want to exacerbate, and had a very truncated walk on a pretty down Thursday, but other than that I managed 20-25 minutes around the green belt in my lovely new neighborhood every day. It’s entirely possible that this mission has made everything move faster and gotten me out of bed a couple days sooner than before. But due to my second mission, I’m not certain. It seemed helpful at the beginning to take notes about things: what I was eating, how I slept, belly issues, bloody noses, when everything happened and when it resolved. And it was helpful those first couple times to be able to compare and see what was “normal,” to know what to expect the next time and help guide me through. But I realized that being so focused on the every movement of side effects was counterproductive for me. I got too focused on better vs worse, rather than just dealing with whatever it was, and way too concerned about cause and effect. I am already pathologically too concerned with doing the “right” thing in a way that weakens my confidence, so when faced with something so powerful and so out of my control, letting myself believe that if I could do the “wrong” thing weakens me at a time when I need all the strength I can get. And I feel most powerful, ironically, when I cede some control and stay in the moment I am in and face what’s there.

Two treatments left. And a visit with the plastic surgeon on Tuesday. My head swims a little by the possibilities there, but here’s to making some choices soon and getting surgery on the books before the end of the year. Thank you for visiting, for reading, for supporting. For bringing food, for sending cleaning money, for sending lovely notes and gift cards and books and love and compassion. We continue to be overwhelmed by the support of our community near and far. We can’t thank you enough.