Apparently my doctor feels that chemo on top of something-yet-to-be-diagnosed as the flu would be cruel and unusual, or at least unsafe, so for now my treatment schedule is on hold.
It makes one feel so incredibly vulnerable, waiting to be allowed the proactive steps for recovery. It makes one feel so incredibly fragile and small, feeling sick feelings that could normally be slept through, but in certain contexts are more terrifying than one hundred gruesome things that go bump in the night.
All our lives are uncertainty – why is today’s uncertainty so paralyzing?
Not enough sun, I think. Not enough frogs in ponds, chocolate cake, or children wearing weird shoes with bells attached.
But my mother-in-law is saintly in her support today.