On Tuesday I started the Lonsurf again, and this time it's been brutal. A couple of times the boys and I have been out seeing something and I've had to stop and send them on on their own. I just don't have the energy to get through it. Today, we were going through a couple of "museums" that involved extended stair cases, and I thought I was going to die. I'm sure the boys were getting tired of my rest breaks, but they were kind enough not to say anything.
It's probably related, but I haven't eaten a full meal since I've been on this trip. I'm good for a bit of yogurt for breakfast, we've mostly been skipping lunch (long story, but not entirely my doing), and I pick at the plate at dinner and send most of it back. And given the role "lack of appetite" plays as a harbinger of death, this is starting to freak me out.
At risk of providing much TMI, I will just say that there are problems at the other end as well. In fact, the Friday after I get back from this trip I will gain a new understanding of Randy Quaid's character from Independence Day. I got a call from the SCCA the other day -- weird, but it's a small world -- wanting to schedule a probe. Under normal circumstances one might opt not to participate in such a thing, but let's just say that the last few months have been anything but normal circumstances and desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, generally, not a lot of good news on the cancer front. But to try to balance things out, I can provide this bit of wisdom from a wall in Belfast (of course, it probably only works if you use it)...
...and also a brand new bit of pressure to live at least 315 more days which, based on what my oncologist was saying, seems potentially possible if mostly unlikely, and which based on how I'm currently feeling seems impossible. But still, I can't say I wouldn't like to live long enough to see this...
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