Today was infusion, second of four here in the fourth cycle.
Today is the day I moved back to my parent's house.
My father took everything to the 3rd floor, my old bedroom.
My uncle Walter and his partner Tom sent flowers - "Welcome back to the Hood."
There is a new bed and pillows and sheets. And water and tissues by the bed.
And I sobbed myself to sleep.
I want to be in my own bed. I don't want to be here. My Dad repainted the walls. The windows and curtains are freshly washed. The windows look out on the lower half of Charlestown, I can see the Mystic River bridge. There is a lovely breeze. It's a very nice home and I was happy here growing up. Every half hour, the bells from St. Francis play up on the hill.
I don't want to be at Jen's, with my bedroom looking out that nifty bow window. Where I can walk out in front and be facing Kingston Bay. Where I can go flop on Jen's couch and we can watch TV and laugh.
I don't want to be in the fabulous Mandalay Bay suite with the two person jacuzzi and twenty four hour room service.
I don't want to be at Sherri and Mike's with the big bed with eight pillows and the clubhouse with the indoor/outdoor pool. Even though they went so far out of their way to bring me there and show me a great time.
I don't want to be at Mary's where she went out of her way to give me her own bed because it was near the better bathroom. She made sure she had bananas and juice and Twinings tea. She was gracious to a fault, even when we thought I broke her brand new washer.
I want to be in my own bed, in the room that was too small for a headboard and footboard. My room where the flat roof amplified the sound of the rain and the squirrels sounded like they weighed 100 lbs. The window at the foot of my bed needed a stick to hold it open and the wall between me and the living room was made of tissue paper.
In a house where there was constant work to be done, laundry, dishes, cleaning....and barely any time. Where there was a constant stream of kids and nonsense. I worked more than full time and went to dinner, lectures, movies.... My biggest problem was who would mow the lawn and getting to the fridge before they ate my leftovers.
And now there is sleeping and crying.
I know there is more, but right now, that's all I see. Each cycle is successively worse and I have so much more to do. I am exhausted.
You're reading this and thinking....."The title says I should be grateful....."
Yeah, I was much worse earlier before I slept for a bit.
I was picking up a prescription, or rather not picking up a prescription since I was a day early and my insurance wouldn't pay for it.....anyway, I ran into Beth. Beth who has NEVER touched me in the 30 some-odd years she has known me....gave me a hug. That's how bad I look. I keep feeling like I should apologize to people.
Kathryn called because Beth sent her a text. That was good because she is always funny.
I wore my sweats & flip-flops to infusion.....no cookies or treats. I was 20 minutes the late. They all told me very cheerfully that it was fine...however....whenever I get there. Whatever works. At least I still manage to shower, ever on the worst days.