the way things smell

I took two naps yesterday. I hadn't slept well the night before and my sleep consultant said I should sleep when the opportunity presented itself so I did. When I got up from my second nap, Regis said he was taking me to the winery.

There is nothing better for a bad case of the crankies than a trip to a winery with a fireplace, soft lights, and friendly women. My snow angel was still visible outside the door, even with the warmer weather. Oh, yeah...it was Pinot and Pizza night, too, so it was win win win all around. We clinked our glasses a few times to toast...something...and had a very nice time.

I slept like a baby last night. Wine can be very good therapy.

I've figured out that having cancer and going through chemotherapy is a little bit like being pregnant. Every day is different and I'm never sure if my symptoms are related to the big thing or if I'm just being hyper vigilant about my health...or just being weird.

The other night we cooked a flank steak which is a favorite of mine. It smelled wonderful while it was cooking, then all of a sudden when it hit the table, I thought, "I can't live here with that awful smell!" Nancy, I'm glad you told me your smell story so I knew I wasn't having an olfactory hallucination.

I've had trouble sleeping for twenty years. I'm not sure the advent of insomnia coincided with the start of menopause or my children finally sleeping through the night. I was so used to waking up in the night that once I could sleep, I couldn't sleep.

So my insomnia is worse some nights. In the handbook of chemotherapy, it says that insomnia is a side effect of either cancer or the treatment. So, is this my usual sleeplessness or exacerbated sleeplessness? I lie awake at night and wonder if there is a dog... which is a reference to my favorite joke about the dyslexic agnostic insomniac.

I'm going to mention it to the doctor. I tried the guided imagery again the other night and wanted to throw my iPod against the wall and stick a steak knife in my ear. I am not stretching my toes toward the sky and I am not feeling myself sink into the pillow and who thought that her little drugged out voice would be soothing?

I'm looking forward to the three post-chemo days when I go about in a dexamethasone-lorazepam haze. My neighbor slapped his knee and laughed out loud when I told him about this the other day. He said that was quite the positive spin on chemotherapy. Chemo for insomniacs. I should start a support group.

There are a couple of local characters who try to out one-line each other on twitter. Of course, they're up in the middle of the night but I read their tweets at 4 am. I call it my Coffee and Comedy start to the day.

I had three jobs that I had been procrastinating about for weeks: taking excess shoes and boots to the basement, updating my address list, and writing some thank you notes. I got busy and did them all in less than an hour. This makes no sense. I spent way more time not wanting to do those things than I did in doing them.

Going to my geriatric exercise class this morning. I'll try to put a burn on those old guys with the oxygen tanks. Maybe it's not so bad, this exercising with the old and infirm. I'm on the honor roll instead of in the remedial group.