In Search of 40 Hours

The plan is to get 40 hours in at work on my non-chemo weeks.  I had it worked out in my head.  This should be the week that I can do it.  No appointments, no steroids, and no shots.  Why won't my body play along nicely?  LOL

I woke this morning with the alarm, which is a first in a week.  It means I got more sleep than I had been getting lately.  I woke when Monica got home from work, and one other time, but was able to go back to sleep after a while.  This should have made me feel good this morning, but I could tell that something wasn't quite right.  I showered and started getting ready, since my morning shower often fixes things that aren't quite right.

I took my temperature, since I'm supposed to call if it reaches 100.5.  99.7 was the first reading, 99.9 was the second (when I got to work,) and I had a major headache.  I do NOT get headaches, so it was consuming all of my concentration, so I took a couple of Advil.  It knocked the temp down to a normal person's normal (I usually run low, but whatever) and took the edge off the headache.

I got my eight hours in today, but it wasn't a joy ride.  I still claim to be quite blessed by not being nauseous so far.  Most food still doesn't sound good, and when something DOES taste good, I take advantage and eat before it loses it's appeal.  Dinner was great today until I was about 3/4 of the way through, and suddenly it was gross.  LOL  Oh well.  I'll keep buying chicken noodle soup and crackers and be thankful that I can hold it down.  So many people cannot do that while doing chemo. 


I plan to turn in early tonight and wake up tomorrow without this pesky headache.  I've alternated Advil and Tylenol all day and choose not to do this again tomorrow.  I choose not to have a headache.  I choose to feel good tomorrow.  I certainly have a new appreciation for anyone who works all day with a headache.  I have friends who get them frequently, and I cannot imagine.  

Eight Stinkin' Hours

It was only eight stinkin' hours.  It's not like I ran a marathon.  I worked a normal, 8-hour shift.  It's not a big deal to those that do it every day, but it's my first in 7 weeks.  And I felt good.  I didn't push and worry and think I'd never make it.  I did fine.

At one point, I looked at coworker Michelle and said, "I feel really good today.  I feel like a wise-ass again!"  She shook her head, smiled, and said, "You sound like one, too."

It was good to feel good.  Now I'm wiped out.  Done.  Cooked.

Goodnight.  I want to do this four more times this week.  If that's going to happen I need to go to bed.

Now.