I've been told to stop taking my chemo pills for the next few days. My mouth broke out in painful sores, and my hands are swollen, red, and cracking. And my nose is all bloody and scabby inside. I feel like a mutant. Can't imagine what my liver looks like. Don't want to know.
I went with Chloe and Mylo on a preschool field trip to Burnaby Village Museum yesterday. I'm sure they had a blast, but I thought it was really lame, and cold. My feet were burning. I could feel my soles cracking.
DH is away in Washington, DC. Am I happy about this? No. Am I understanding about this? No. Am I forgiving? Maybe someday. When I was reading Her Baldness, the author would talk about how she felt when her partner had to go on business trips, and all the mixed emotions she felt, and it really mirrored my feelings. Part of me does want to feel independent and be okay with him going on a trip, and be rational and understanding. The litle girl inside who's sick is screaming, "Hey, you're supposed to be taking care of me, and instead you go some place more important?" And I know he feels bad for going. Plus he's not well himself, as he's had a really bad cold the past week. Anyway, I'm sure we'll work it out. I think perhaps a trip by myself would be fair, don't you? I've been thinking of going on one of those meditation retreats.