Returning to Normal

I suspect that many Cancer Banter readers may have rolled their eyes (I saw that) after my last post, The Healing Power of Pecan Sticky Buns. Yes, I admit that I was so encouraged by my sudden progress that I figured I'd be my old self before McCain's acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention.

But reality set in over the weekend. After I wrote Paula that my recovery back to normal was going to be slow, she cautioned: "Please print this [my declaration of slow recovery] out and tape it to your bathroom mirror! I KNOW you--you'll start feeling peppy and decide you want a pool in the back yard and you'll just start DIGGING." She knows me too well.

Even though I continue to do just a bit more each day, I'm discovering that I still have serious limitations. I puttered in the kitchen for 30 minutes this morning - nothing more exerting than cubing a watermelon and loading the dish washer - but I was left breathless and tired.

Four friends came by with a beautiful brunch feast at 10 am. We had homemade lemon pound cake, chocolate brownies and fresh fruit galore (strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, bananas, watermelon, grapes), all washed down with freshly brewed strawberry-kiwi black tea. Most of the guests ate their fruit with yogurt, but I squirted loads of high-fat whipped cream on mine. I'm counting calories, ya' know.

I was having a delightful time, but after one hour, I was worn out. I had to excuse myself so that I could rest, but I encouraged the party to continue. I came down a little later to say goodbye to my friends and to show off the latest upgrades to the shade garden.

Our shade garden, beneath the redwood trees in the side yard, is a
refreshing retreat during the Dog Days of August. (Click to enarge.)

I was hoping that I would feel good enough today to make a brief appearance at a friend's house warming party. Scratch. I was thinking I might feel good enough to show up at a friend's Labor Day barbecue. Scratch.

The puttering and the small gathering were enough for me. I was content to spend the rest of the day with my LA Times (although the Sunday edition has become dismal), NY Times and take-out fried chicken, greens, mac and cheese and corn bread from Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles. The day was far from "normal," but it was good.