I was going to start off trying to coin a smattering of new words for Tired that this chemo treatment is inspiring — the deep exhaustion that shuts the body and mind down completely, the utter disregard for anything beyond lying down, the inability to finish the last two bites of food, the need to rest after a trip to the bathroom. I need new words, even the medical warning of “fatigue” doesn’t begin to touch it. Although when I say it in French it has a flair that adds a little something. I have been so very, very fatigué. Sleeping when I can, although not as much as I’d like, but lying down pretty straight through from Friday to now. I’ve had a couple excursions to the kitchen, and almost daily showers though, that’s remarkable actually.

I woke this morning with a glimmer, a suggestion that I was coming through the worst of the weekend. John reported seeing more of a light in my eyes, and a smile, than he had in days. Then I spoke with the oncology nurse navigator, Amanda, who gave me hope that I have survived the first blast. By this time, she reported, the toxic chemicals are leaving my system, being flushed out by the liters of water I am dutifully drinking, so my worst symptoms should have already shown themselves. And if that’s the case (I say knocking every bit of wood within reach) then I *AM* pleasantly surprised by how much easier to tolerate chemo drugs are these days. Modern medicine, I tell ya. I won’t go into too much detail about the other bits I experienced, other than to say nausea was kept well at bay and the bad bone pain turned out only to be discomfort. Amanda said I will likely find that the symptoms just sort of stop — I’m hoping that tomorrow I wake up and feel close to normal, and can start planning for the next go-round so my daughter doesn’t miss another volleyball game (ugh, that’s the most frustrating as I have two friends who are happy to fetch her for that) and we can actually create some stability.