Waiting, with Dog

Strangely, I am waiting to feel sick.  The masochist in me wants my side effects, which indicate to me that there is a lot of toxic, cancer killing medicine doing its work inside me.  Don't get me wrong. I am grateful for the giant infusion of anti-nausea drugs that give me two or three days of respite.  The nausea has not been a huge issue though, as when that stuff wears off, there are several choice bottles of pills sitting in my bathroom to take the edge off.

I did pretty well with the side effects last time.  Dr. Raish says that indicates the pattern for the duration.  Fatigue, and brain fog will be cumulative and will increase as the treatments progress, but in other ways what I have experienced should remain fairly consistent.

I make a tiny set of goals every day, which makes it sound like a vacation when I map it out, but by the end of it I am exhausted.  Yesterday's included a run, some yoga, making oatcakes (Jon's go-to breakfast grab), getting a shot of Neulasta (keeps the white cells high enough, also causes muscle and body aches), getting groceries, walking the dog.  I completed the list and was toast.

Today's list: swimming is at the top of the list, walk the dog...  Speaking of my dog, I need to admit in public (this being public) what a gift she has been.  I honestly don't know what I would be doing hanging around here so much on my own without her.  She is excellent company.  She takes her role as my constant companion extremely seriously, even though I believe the first year and a half of her life included little to no puppy interaction and lessons about such things.  I am assuming this and I don't know it.

I know she would have been hard to resist, but I also know that when I got her at the pound she was quite longterm hungry, covered with bloody mats and random animal bites, had clearly been a poodle/bichon mix living probably exclusively outside.  She adores us, even Tim, who is not overly interested in any animals.  Her challenge, as many of you know, is welcoming people into the house.  Her poodleness combined maybe with her past circumstances has made her extremely protective.  Tall men in ball caps don't get a warm greeting, and almost no one gets in without a fairly high maintenance dance including Milk Bone biscuits and patience.  That said, she has made first the year after I sold the shop and now this new and bizarre year much, much better.