Extremes

Well, Saturday I ran five miles, walked on the beach, dipped in the ocean... Sunday I woke up so dizzy and ill I basically stayed in bed until 2:00.  I think I was at Bowdoin after a hard, hard night the last time I might have stayed in bed that long, if I ever actually did.  Today I feel kind of normal.  I had a mile swim and some yoga, and walked the dog.

I don't think it's a matter of pacing.  The stuff I'm doing I'm doing in an extremely mellow way.  I am not getting my heart rate up at all, just in it for the movement and mind emptiness.  I don't think there's anything I can really do about one day being one thing and another being quite another.  Oh fucking well.

On another note:  my skin is turning chemo gray.  I feel as if I am now pale gray with dark gray circles underneath my eyes.  Not helping is the sudden acne breakout, bizarre mouth interior, and strange tingling fingers.  Pretty soon I expect I will be bald, to complete the picture.

Really, I'm not complaining, just reporting.  I am actually glad to feel as though there is something poisonous inside me.

On another, more cheery note:  my sainted husband snagged two tickets to see Bruce Springsteen in November, in Portland.  I then snagged a room at the highly upscale Hotel Monaco for said sacred night.  I suppose I might be dragging my exhausted ass there, hunched over in my bandana, clutching my bottle of Compazine and looking pathetic enough that the tall person in front of me sits down and lets me see, but I am still SOOOOOOOOOO PSYCHED.