After working a couple weeks of half days, my oncologist released me to work full time. I’ve put in a few 8 hour days now, and I believe I really do prefer half days, but it was time to take another step towards normal. One of my co-workers asked, “Why don’t you just shave your head? Your hair cries I survived Chernobyl!” I pointed out that anyone can shave their head, but only a select few can pull off the, “faint hovering mist” look.
I’ve come to realize that chemo goes in you like a bullet, carefully aimed to mortally wound the cancer. Piercing its target, it continues clanging and zinging back and forth through your body, messing with everything else until its energy is spent. I think my chemo bullet rattled all the way down to my feet before expiring, resulting in this stubborn neuropathy.
I thought I had lost two good friends to cancer this year – Mountain Dew and Darigold Old Fashioned Chocolate Milk. I ran into them both recently, and they are as good as ever.