Boxes are still running my life. You'd think that four-plus weeks after the move, I'd be unpacked and settled in. Hasn't happened yet. I guess I've got a good excuse. In my usual perfect timing, I came down with a sinus infection five days before the move. Antibiotics knocked it back pretty quickly, but not before the infection wiped me out. That and yet-another round of chemo — this one on the heels of the move — knocked me back into last year. Usually, the Tuesday to Thursday chemo leaves me fatigued through Saturday. This time the whole weekend came and went and I did squat. Just opening a box took enough out of me that I'd either sit for a while or, more likely, take a nap. Even Sparky got tired of napping!
I did finally start to feel better by the following weekend, but then it was time to gear up for another round of chemo. The good news is I now have eight rounds under my belt and only four to go. Boxes will be in my life as long as they need to be.
Things chemo, moving and divorce have taught me:
We lived a very peaceful life in Dove Canyon for nearly 15 years. Maybe too peaceful. It was the kind of neighborhood where you pulled your car into your garage, closed the door and cocooned in your house or back yard, rarely to be seen. If I hadn't been an avid (if sporadic) gardener, I doubt I'd see a neighbor for days. So I've enjoyed rediscovering the sounds of life that occur in my rental townhome. Kids actually play outside. Sirens whiz down Lake Forest Parkway. Even the occasional rumble of my neighbor's home theater sound system doesn't bother me. An added bonus: An ice cream truck cruises the neighborhood like clockwork at 5 p.m. each day. I'd forgotten there were such things. (So far, I've resisted temptation.)
I am ready for chemo to be done. My platelet count is low, so every little bump becomes a major bruise. I know I should be thankful that chemo has gone as smoothly as it has. Aside from the fatigue during chemo weeks, my other big side effect has been thinning hair. How bad is it? Let's just say I keep a lint roller by my bed so I can swipe clean my pillow each morning. I know I should be thankful that I still have hair — however sparse — all over my head. At least it's not like breast cancer chemo which leaves most women temporarily bald. However, it drives me a little crazy that Nate has taken to shaving his head. If he doesn't want that hair, I'd take it! The good news: It takes about a third of the time to blow dry my hair these days.
The other good thing chemo has done is kill my appetite. During one of my early chemo sessions, I panicked when I overheard a woman complaining that she'd gained 10 pounds during chemo. Since I'd dropped 10 pounds during the "divorce" year, and lost 5 more after my colon surgery, I wasn't eager to think about packing the pounds back on. Fortunately, I've lost 20 more. Chemo makes food taste differently — and not in a good way. Things taste bland or metallic; chewing is exhausting; swallowing an effort. Even when something sounds good, halfway through the meal it loses its appeal. Consequently, I don't each much during the chemo weeks. I think my stomach has shrunk, so that even on off-chemo weeks, I fill up pretty quickly. Can't decide if this has been the easiest or hardest 35 pounds I've ever lost! Makes me laugh: My good friend Shari has taken to calling me The Incredible Shrinking Woman.
I worried that the move would make the divorce more "real," and thought that I might sink into a major funk. However, it's been rather peaceful not having to tap dance around a soon-to-be-ex. I think I did my grieving while we were still living under the same roof. I'm still not happy to be divorcing, but I do know I will survive. A favorite quote: I can be changed by what happens to me. I refuse to be reduced by it. —Maya Angelou
Back to my boxes.
