4 down

I had a lovely few days before chemo blast no 4...the children's sports day, meeting with good friends and my sister's get together karaoke party for her 50th. I felt good. It felt good to feel good.
I felt ridiculous as I  boaked continuously while the nurse was injecting me with the poison. Even as I write this I feel a well of bile rise up inside me as I think about those syringes. I apologised profusely to the nurse because I know that it's a psychological association now...I'm going to have to try undo it before my next blast.
It's now day 8 post chemo. It really floored me. It was as if my life force was hovering outside of me. Breathless and without energy you feel pathetic and weak...and frustrated. Without complaint, my hubby kept me fed and watered. Without complaint, he slept on the sofa to not pass on the cold he acquired.
My good, dear friends, whisked my children away and I cried because I was so grateful that they helped me by giving the children the fun time they so deserved. You really do know your true friends in times of need...they are the ones that just send the text to say 'I can take the kids today.'
It's great when the recovery days between doses arrive. It's great taking part in normality again.
Wouldn't it be great to ocassionally feel as free as Walter Mitty on his longboard through Iceland...