It always feels as thought autumn is full of holidays and holy days. From starting a new year to the Great I'm Sorry (aka Yom Kippur) and then sliding into the harvest fest of Sukkot, it's one celebration after another. Unless you have metastatic cancer.
Ringing in the new year was fun and spiritually satisfying. Yom Kippur was more challenging: the rush to eat dinner at 4:30 pm in order to be at synagogue by 5:45 pm; the long 25 hour fast; the inner cleansing and asking for forgiveness; remembering those we've lost; and finally a great hullaballoo at the end when we're practically dancing in the aisles during the final shofar blast.
The break-fast felt quiet after so much energy spent during the day. The next morning, Rik put up our sukkah (temporary shanty) with help from friends, and more friends came over to decorate it. My sukkah, now in it's 22nd year, looks like a lifetime of memories from our twenty years of marriage and even before.
But this Abraxane is beginning to wear me down. On Monday I felt fine, but got hit with diarrhea immediately upon arriving home. Tuesday I could barely get out of bed; it was just as well that Rik needed the car all day. Wednesday and today have been better but not terrific. I expect next week's chemo to hit me as hard. That will be the third dose in this second round.
So now I'm going to try to relax, cuddle with the dogs, maybe watch some TV or read a book. I'm already in my jammies.