Daria commented that she was glad to see that my energy had come back. That's the odd thing. It hasn't.
Truth be told, I feel ill. A lot. I feel exhausted more often than not. I ache and I hobble around in the morning, in the evening, and anytime in between when I sit for any length of time. I guess this is the new normal, and it is a surprise to me to realize that I may never go back to what I was. I'm starting believe that there will ever be a day when I don't think about my body. The day starts with pills, and the amounts of motrin in between is adjusted to accomodate the pain. Some days are good days. Other days are pretty awful. But I don't have cancer. The irony of that will stay with me always. Last fall, I wasn't sick. I had cancer. This fall, I am miserable, but I don't have cancer. Other people who have dealt with cancer tell me that they also cope with pain and exhaustion, even years after treatment.
Simply put, if this is the new normal, then I guess that I'd best learn how to deal with it, hadn't I? I will not be an invalid moaning quietly to herself in a rocking chair, wasting one precious day after another. So I push myself, because it is all that I know how to do. This is my life, and I have contemplated the end of it. Galvanized by that experience, energized by the words 'cancer free' (never mind the 'at this point in time'), I look at the things that I always meant to do, but never quite got around to doing. And I drink a cup of coffee, take a couple motrins, and I get around to doing them. And out of the ordinary, a very satisfactory life takes shape.