Sent from my chemo jail…

Excuse the typos as I’m writing with half a brain due to the concoctions scientists devise. My chemo brain has a film of grease, a layer of cloudy with a chance of hairballs. Excuse the dark wit as I am writing you from chemo jail. It’s sunny outside and 73 degrees. This is April in Seattle so….I’m going a bit crazy in here.

Post chemo jail, my mind will be fuzzy and I might even walk like a drunken sailor, but it’s four blocks to my mom’s apartment, and sunny, so I am walking.

Walking in a fog, feeling hungover, even on this easier treatment I wonder how people go shopping, run errands or really, carry a conversation after chemo. I overhear all of these grand plans in the chairs next to me but I’ve never felt the reality that some of you feel. Seriously? You really go grocery shopping and cook dinner after chemo? I can barely eat dinner! This must be a front, I always think to myself. Today I got to walk to and from chemo in the glorious sunshine and that was a pure gift. My 15 month old escorted me, with his Nonna, another lovely gift. Still, I am fogged over and warning those who received email or read this that it has been sent from my chemo jail…I really should change the sign off tag on my iPad.

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