The day after the day after

And then the steroids wear off

On Monday night I had 5 glorious hours of sleep and woke up ready to roar.  Well, ready to pee because of all the water I'd drunk but then ready to roar.  I knew I'd crash about lunchtime, being more used to 7 - 8 hours but I was wrong.  I felt great all day and caught up on a load of paperwork and cleaning up that I'd been putting off forever.  So what they say about chemo is clearly bull.
Wednesday - I love Wednesdays because we start work an hour later and I love Susan because she doesn't resent the fact and largely tiptoes around the house.  This morning she got the call to tell her that her school was opening 2 hours late because it was a bit cold outside and I blearily bumped into someone I assume was her in the bathroom about 6:30.  I need to pad the doorframe of the closet, too, if I am going to keep walking into it.
Pretty sure I got to school on time - I had a free hour before my first class which was something or other.  Oh yeah, robotics.  The kids in this class are fantastic.  One had brought his new build it yourself gaming computer to school to put together and wanted my help.  I impressed myself by correctly identifying the power cord before giving up so Eddie, the expert, took over.  Last I heard they were muttering about fried motherboards and static electricity.
Steve, meanwhile, had identified why his countdown timer was displaying one digit in Klingon while the other digit was displaying in black on a black background.  With little help from me - "Aha!  Mmmm, yes.  Think about it." - he got it working and treated us all to a mild celebratory dance.
Lunchtime - my desk is too small to crawl under and barf so I wandered around aimlessly for a while until Alan baled me up with some really thoughtful questions about Python and graphics engines.  Just what I needed to kick me back into gear but I couldn't get in the car fast enough at 2:35 to get home.  Indeed, I couldn't get in the car fast enough and got caught up in the pickup line at the Lower School.
Tucked up in my favorite armchair (I don't bear it a grudge even though it is where this whole sordid mess started), I feel calm and relaxed although my trusty CVS sphigmomanometer or however you bloody spell it tells me I am about to explode spectacularly. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

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