Another Day In Paradise

8/15 -  (Your Name Here) Let anyone reading be forewarned - what I am about to report isn't all chuckles and upbeat anecdotes.  Cancer, all kinds, and the treatments for cancers are a deadly serious business.  I'm in the fight of my life and don't think for a minute I don't know it.  I can't see, walk or talk.  I now type with one hand, and I worry my right hand will completely give out before the left recovers.  They both shake.  I wonder if I'll ever wear high heels again.  Or be able to see well enough to put on makeup or fix my hair. Right now, the answer is anything but certain.     

I refuse to accept this as my new reality.  The wheelchair, the sitting down a lot, not being able to do anything quickly or gracefully, all that and much more!  My husband has been a wonder to me, every day.  As in I wonder why he's still here, neither he or my son signed on for this. Of course, neither did I.  It's been taking a really long time to recover, I've always lived primarily in my head and took all my physical abilities more or less for granted.  Relearning to walk and talk seems so daunting, too big for me to do.  As well as very silly.  I also look as though I've been somewhere really scary.  I had what I can only conclude were really scary dreams immediately following surgery.  My head now hurts when I'm dreaming too.  Every movement, every decision requires extraordinary planning and strength.  Getting into bed, for example, is hysterically funny, we have a new bed, very tall. No matter how I approach it, I'm always falling on it, in some way, it's ridiculous, so I started thinking, it won't be nearly as funny in five years, or two years or even this year.  Then what will I do?   Build a platform?  Don't think so.  15mi/1DM(=death march=practice walk)