So….Chemo #2 is done and done.  I’m now just sort of swimming through the mud of ridiculous exhaustion, which seems to be the main side effect of the drugs I get.  In that, I actually consider myself lucky.  There are worse side effects, believe me.  They give you lists.  And, I see some of them up close in other patients at the infusion center.  That is one of my main observations about this process itself.  If I open my eyes and look around me, I see a lot of opportunity and prompting to pray.  Everyone in that room needs prayers, for healing, for comfort, for strength and bravery.

Other observations from the Infusion Center:

•  They have wonderful light and great windows.  They need to turn the chairs so that the patients can look out, instead of having their backs to said windows.  Sunshine and a view are good for you.

• I am now taking all of my magazines straight there as soon as they are finished so they are still fresh, and I will NOT tear out recipes and the ends of articles.  What are people thinking?  That’s just mean.
• Everyone has their own way of coping with this experience, but I am going to try very hard to not sit next to the lady whose coping mechanism is to call every single member of her large family and gossip about every single other member.  In detail.  Loudly.  Enough to penetrate Bose Noise-cancelling headphones.
• The nurses and aids are amazing, attentive and understanding.  Nothing ruffles them. They absolutely radiate confidence and healing.

Other observations about this whole weird thing:

•  I have a confession.  I kind of like running around without my hair.  I thought I would hate it, and I am still kind of picky about who actually sees me, but it’s really quite comfortable to be bald. Especially when you come in from the heat and can take your hair off.  Not bad at all.  I also kind of like the scarf thing, though I am half afraid someone will stop me and ask me to read their tea leaves or something. And, I can drive in the car with the windows down and my hair doesn’t blow in my face.
• I do not care if I ever see another television show again as long as I live, with the possible exception of the new Downton Abbey when it comes and maybe Castle, or Masterpiece Theatre Sherlock.  Maybe.  Unfortunately, the chemo is affecting my eyesight a bit and I can’t read for long periods without it being blurry.  The font size choices on the Kindle help, so it’s getting a real workout.  I have reached televised overload, which for someone of my generation is somewhat unusual.  However, it makes my housemates happy as it just frees up the thing on the wall for more SportsCenter.
• I know that my tiredness doesn’t always let me respond the way I want to or should, but the best thing in all of this, the thing that makes it bearable and doable, is the prayers and calls and notes of encouragement and love of my family and friends.  I am surrounded by the best and most loving people.  I am riding through on a wave of prayer.  I am being helped and cared for and supported physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I am blessed, and that’s the truth.