No St. Patrick’s Day for you!

This is likely going to be a boring post. But to be fair, my post-chemo week was pretty boring. I spent most of it sleeping. Last Wednesday through Friday are kind of a blur. I know resting was necessary but when you’re normally a do-er it’s hard to wrap your head around all that sleep. It made me feel lazy and restless and kinda like the world was passing me by. My mind said “You’re supposed to be experiencing everything, remember” yet my body said “This chemo really kicked my ass, let’s sleep”. And the body won out. It was the kind of tired where you’re too tired to even focus on a book or a tv show. The good news is that exhaustion is really the primary side effect. There’s some nausea but not much. And some joint pain and numbness in hands and feet – but they’re nothing compared to the exhaustion.

And I’m guessing depression is a side effect – but more likely it’s just a side effect of having cancer. By Saturday afternoon I had some energy and overall we had a great weekend doing things we love (going to Scarlet Oak, hiking with dogs, Rick cooking a great meal, seeing friends). But I felt kind of blue on Sunday. Maybe it’s silly but St Patrick’s Day has always been one of my favorite days of the year. I think it all started with the St. Patrick’s Day shows at St. Jerome’s School. I loved getting dressed in green and wearing eye shadow and lipstick and being on-stage singing traditional Irish songs (“…with a shillelagh under my arm and a twinkle in my eye I’ll be off to Tipperary in the morning”) and watching the Irish Step Dancers. Once I was old enough the day was obviously all about being in an Irish pub. But it’s not just being in a pub that I love – it’s being in a pub with friends – and strangers who are so happy and friendly they act like friends. And having a few pints and listening to an Irish band and singing along to Molly Malone and Rattlin’ Bog and just being happy and carefree. I wanted that feeling! But alas, it was day 7 post chemo and that’s when my immune system tanks to the lowest point. The last place I should have been in was a pub. It was just knowing that I couldn’t that made me want it more. All I’m saying is next year I’m not missing St. Patrick’s Day!

My spirits picked up (as my energy did – coincidence?) Monday and I’ve felt great the past couple of days. I no longer feel like this cancer is an imminent death sentence. It’s just this unfortunate thing that I have to get through but I truly believe it will all work out. I feel like myself. I used my elliptical machine yesterday and I cooked dinner tonight – things I did for the first time in 7 weeks (but who’s counting)! I can handle this whole cancer thing. I really can.