…
Just a low dose, but still, it’s a chemo drug and I have mixed feelings.
It gave me my life back but took small pieces of my freedom as well.
Tag: <span>Hope</span>
Down with a cold, but not COVID, I seem to start the New Year the same way I did last year, coughing my head off, but that’s not true. Last year in January there was peace in my mind, then in February Russia invaded Ukraine. Last year I could afford chicken, and now it’s almost a luxury item.
How can five small pills be so powerful?
The fear I felt before I took my first low dose of a chemotherapy drug was real. I felt very nervous, had read up on it, had researched it mercilessly. The internet, as always, helped me to picture all kinds of horror scenarios in my head. The printed list of potential side effects that came with the medication didn’t help much either: Possible death. I chuckled when I read it out loud. My husband didn’t think it was humorous at all.
As of today, 143,895 families and individuals have offered to take Ukraine refugees in, all together they have 327,844 beds available. All of them are private citizens mainly from Germany but also from neighboring countries, willing and eager to open their homes to Ukrainian (and Russian) refugees without hesitation.
A turquoise leather color purchased online two weeks ago is laying at a post office in Ukraine. I didn’t notice where I was ordering from until yesterday when I started wondering why it hadn’t arrived?
“Maybe God is punishing us,” my husband said and once again I envied him a bit.
Twenty years earlier I had followed him in the bedroom a few minutes after he had just gone to bed. I had an idea and needed to tell him right away. I opened our bedroom door and shared the result of my brainstorm with him. I didn’t get an answer. I whispered his name, wanted to make sure he was still awake. Again, no answer. He completely ignored me, or he had fallen asleep in under two minutes. Then, right when I tried to close the door quietly, willing to wait until the next morning to share whatever I had thought couldn’t wait, I heard him say. “I was praying.”
Husband and wife who had been separated see each other again, and they fall into each other’s arms. They exchange a passionate kiss, they hug and hold on to each other, then they walk into the sunset, holding hands, happy to be reunited again. That’s how it would be in the movies or in books. The perfect scenario of a married couple still being in love after so many years.
I have a disease that can take up to fifteen years off my life expectancy, and I happen to find this highly inconvenient. I have been setting the age of my demise at 80′-something, so fifteen years less would mean I could say bye-bye with 65, which is just not an option. Don’t you dare cheat me out of my years!
Depends
Most definitely not always but often
Too many zones need my attention
Too many problems I cannot fix
Our two-week COVID-lockdown is over. We worked yesterday for the first time. My husband left the house in the morning, I watched him leave and I dragged my feet to the living room. I piddled around a bit but finally made it to my workroom. In clothes -real clothes! All our pajamas and sweatpants were spinning in the washer. We survived the coronavirus and I feel so many emotions, I don’t even know where to begin.