As we reach the end of the second cyle of chemotherapy, I see the emerging 3-week pattern. Weeks one and two are intense - only to be describe to a health care professional. To everyone else who asks, "How are you?" I have learned to respond, "Fine, thankyou and you?" Otherwise I find myself mired in sickness. It may well be that I am, and I accept that I am, but it does not follow that I have to talk about it all the time. So talk to me of orchids and gardens, composting and lawn mowing and we will have a fine chat.
My dance image continues with the chemicals and my body performing a rather passionate and elaborate tango-like spin around the floor of life, a spin filled with many sharp turns and unexpected dips during weeks one and two. My immune system bends to the force of the drugs, nimbly getting out of the way before they step on her toes, to allow their lead for cleansing and healing. As we enter week 3, she begins to reassert her strength, gradually taking the lead for her kind of healing. Passion turns into grace, and we appreciate the beauty of dance.
Cycle three is scheduled for Monday if the white blood cell count is high enough. We did have a fall during this last dance - shingles around the liver - so let's see just how much the system is comprimised. We may have to introduce some new moves from a Maori war dance into our tango.
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