lazy update

I don't know how articulate any of the following sentences will be because homegirl is exhausted. And also somewhat frustrated.

This past weekend felt like a week was packed into every hour. Saturday we had Cody's grad party at our house. The wig made its wide public debut but was quickly replaced by a hat when I realized having a bunch of what is essentially long strands of plastic on your head when it's 80 degrees out and you don't have to is silly.

I'm trying to think of how to write what I mean to say next without offending anyone, and I think it may just have to be something I get off the hook for for having cancer? Maybe? I just kind of underestimated how daunting it would be to see that many of my family members and friends in one place at one time and have to maintain a somewhat sunny disposition. I mean, in general I am doing really great, I'm not lying when I tell people that. I said to Andrew the other day, aside from having the hodge, this summer has been amazing, stemming from a lot of different sources of happiness. It just got extremely emotionally exhausting to remain talkative and gracious, and I don't think I did a very good job. (And if I did manage it then, I'm outing myself now as a grump.) It's actually the first time that happened; usually I'm good to gab about anything, cancer included (I have a freaking blog about it, hello), but maybe not 20 times in one afternoon. It's funny though, I've met two types of people throughout this experience: those who can talk about it, and those who ignore it. And believe me, the latter type is the harder to deal with internally.

That being said, it was definitely a party to remember. About 20 something of Cody's BC friends showed up, along with Smithtown kids, and by the time night fell, the backyard was swarming with people. At one point in the evening, one of my friends turned to me and said, "Your brother has a lot more friends than you do." I pouted at first, but then looking around, realized it's true. Quality not quantity, though, right? RIGHT?

Sunday will live in infamy as the day I watched Burlesque and...really enjoyed it. There's a part where Christina (I said enjoyed it, but not enough to remember the name of the character she plays, ok?) goes into her dressing room, which is overflowing with boas and sequins and prop machine guns that shoot glitter, and all I could think about was being in that room, which lead directly to make-a-wish foundation jokes.

Monday was my friends' second annual 4th of July jaunt to Fire Island. The fog fooled everyone into thinking they weren't getting any color for most of the day. Consequently, I took a ferry home with a few talking lobsters and some striped bass. (My milky-skinned friend Thea fell asleep on her side and now has a nice full-body crimson line running vertically.)

When I read back my account of those three days, it reminds me of a normal weekend I used to have before the hodge, with less drinking and dancing to be had, yet I feel ten times more exhausted than I used to and want to. I watched True Grit with my parents last night and after literally understanding half of what Matt Damon said and almost none of what mouth-full-of- marbles Jeff Bridges said, had to turn on the captions. That's how tired I was. And it's just frustrating to pay for having so much fun. And what's stranger is that I feel like my mind has been going 10 thousands times faster than it used to and in a thousand different directions even as my body slows down, which doesn't do much for resting effectively. This past weekend made me feel like a racehorse chomping at the bit to get better and be active. Girl needs to start doing some yoga, stat.

But that has to wait until I get whatever is going on with my feet sorted out. A few days ago I noticed pain in both feet, across the tops and along the sides, but I attributed it to walking around the city in flip flops. By Sunday a black and blue bloomed along the ball and across the top of my left foot, which has kind of left me hobbling. After a doctor's visit today, it was decided one of the chemo drugs will be pulled this next treatment to try and stop the symptoms, which could be signs of something called neuropathy.

Chemotherapy-induced (chemo-induced) peripheral neuropathy may be called CIPN for short. It is a set of symptoms caused by damage to the nerves that are further away from the brain and spinal cord. These distant nerves are called peripheral nerves. They carry sensations (feeling) to the brain and control the movement of our arms and legs. They also control the bladder and bowel, though these nerves are affected less often. Chemo-induced peripheral neuropathy can be a disabling side effect of cancer treatment. It is caused by some of the chemotherapy drugs used to treat cancer.

Thank you, google.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disconcerted by that. I've learned (to attempt) not to worry before there's cause to, but what could've caused a spontaneous bruise? I guess all that's left for me to do is take it in stride and go watch True Grit again before it expires on my IO.