What does one do on the eve of one's third round of chemotherapy? When one knows precisely how crappy one is going to feel and for how long? When you still have more rounds of chemotherapy ahead of you than behind you?
One eats. And eats and eats and eats. Thus far tonight I have had three falafels, some hummus, and cucumber slices while I cooked dinner. For dinner I had bulgogi (seasoned chickpeas), roasted cauliflower, half of a grilled cheese sandwich, wilted kale, garlic bread, and strawberries. Plus, I've eaten two homemade sugar cookies that my daughters decorated for Easter. I've got my eye on some chocolate milk for a snack later.
Hopefully these delights will carry me through my nauseous BRATY week.
I also have a long walk ahead of me. I'm headed out in a few minutes to get some exercise while I can. Hopefully it's not too windy out there.
In all seriousness, I'm actually a bit pensive about tomorrow. Today a poem came to mind in thinking about chemotherapy round three tomorrow. I hope you like it.
INTO MY OWN by Robert Frost
One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and firm they scarely show the breeze,
Were no, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e'er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knew -
Only more sure of all I thought was true.