Tree Skiing

Chemo started again Monday. A few hours in the big chair, back in the office by early afternoon. Poison on pump for 48 hours, and then freedom Wednesday morning. I must admit, though I had every intention of going straight to the office after pump removal, I had to go home and lay down for an hour. I'm realizing that I rev myself up to make it through treatment, but then I crash for about 48 hours after its all over and I just want to sleep...but wouldn't you know it, one of these damn drugs causes insomnia.

I've been told that my side effects will get worse with each of the next six treatments, but that if I haven't had a side effect yet, I likely won't get it going forward. Big sigh of relief. I can live with the headaches and how the new drug changes the taste of food. I keep asking Steve if this or that is bad before dishing it out to Van, and my vanilla yogurt is altogether tasteless. It makes everything feel much, much colder too, to the point of burning, so I'm now drinking lukewarm water. And just when Van has discovered the ice cream man.

I feel like I start to mend by Friday or Saturday though, and by middle of the following week, that full week off between treatments, I'm more like myself. I've been asked several times why I don't take it easy - working full time, entertaining, weekend long festivals, plans for Napa. Am I pushing myself too hard? Wouldn't I rather take some time off?

My best answer is tree skiing. The trick to tree skiing is not to look at the trees, because you'll surely hit them. You have to look between the trees, at those narrow spaces of light that, when navigated just right, offer you safe passage and one hell of a run. Yes, occassionally, there is the errant tree stump lurking beneath a deceiving pillow of fresh powder, waiting to toss you ass over teakettle - but you've got to know your terrain and anticipate variable conditions. And when you do need to sit a run out, there's usually a fireside bar serving cold beer on tap...