Round six report
The hair atop my head has started to grow, fuzz by fuzz. My eyebrows, on the other hand, are slowly drifting away from my face. As for the rest of my body, it will still be some time before I need any sort of depilation.
Limbo is where I live now. Yes, there will be scans and bloodwork, but timing? Not a clue. When will I have energy again? Could be months from now, until I move into what I can only speculate will be the new normal. Once cancer throws a hand grenade into your life, it's hard to know where the road, to mix a metaphor, will take you.
I had fallen into a rhythm with chemo -- finally figured out how I would probably feel on any given day based on what had happened previously. Now, I have to relearn how to have days to myself -- it is two weeks until my next doctor's appointment, not two days. I am intermittently exhausted, but I have time now -- maybe too much time.
Apart from slicing my palm open when I cut an avocado and, a week later, slamming my index finger in my front door, I'm doing okay. But still, it's different: what would normally require basic first aid now requires a trip to the oncologist's to make sure the wounds are minor. My white blood counts remain at the point where something minor could turn into a nasty infection.
So I'm out of the bubble, but far from ready for prime time.