the blue-tinged week slips by

I've struggled with the blues this week. I tried mightily on Tuesday with all the things they recommend (No guided imagery of which I am not a fan. Those things should have warning labels like this: Listening to this CD may cause your symptoms to worsen. Call your doctor if you get the urge to put a steak knife in your ear.) but all the others: tea, yoga, music, candles, friends, nap, book.  Yesterday was a bit better but at 4 o'clock when it was snowing and raining and icy and the worst kind of maudlin gray outside, I had had it.

I convinced Regis we should go to a local pizza parlor for dinner. It was early so no flu-ridden crowds, and the place is fairly new so there aren't layers of germs lingering on the tables. It lacks a bit in atmosphere...gym clothes hanging all over the walls in an attempt, I would guess, to attract the high school crowd. We'll skip that next time. I don't want to look at wrestling shorts while I eat.

I'm under quarantine. I have to avoid crowds and places where I could be exposed to germs. For the next six weeks? Time to increase the Zoloft.

It feels like we do things therapeutically but not for fun. We go to the geriatric exercise class and we go to appointments. The main topic of conversation at those places is called Name Your Symptoms. Tonight I'm going to a make-up class at the cancer center. I hope they will have some advice for head moisturizing. Suddenly, I have hit a stage of life for which I was not quite prepared. I hope it's temporary.

Yesterday, honest to God, we were excited because we found a good deal on toilet paper at Walgreen's and made a plan to go back today to get more. We have a coupon. It's pitiful.

I wandered around Hobby Lobby the other day, looking at paint by number and learn to draw kits. I resisted those because they looked hard (for ages 8+) but I did buy some yarn and some supplies to make cards.

Next summer, when this cancer shit is mostly over, I think I'll take belly dancing lessons.