Dragging My Feet

Just the thought of having to go in for another chemo treatment is enough to send me diving into bed and pulling the covers up over my head. It's silly, but I just don't want to do it. Please don't make me.

OK, so the treatments haven't been all that intolerable. So I am tolerating them well. So I have already come through most of them and am still fine. So I already know mostly what to expect and how to manage any side effects.

I still plain old don't want to do it. I am balking. Procrastinating. Maybe I just need more time. A little break. Still, I am well cared for. I can do this. I just have to get geared up for it, I guess. Focus on other stuff and not think about it until I have to be there.

Sort of like when I was a kid and had to take yucky medicine. I remember once after I had my appendix removed and I was recovering at Gramma's house. My Great Aunt Lillian was a nurse, and she administered my medicine, which was bitter. I fussed about taking it, refusing to open my mouth.

She pinched my nose, forcing me to open my mouth and popped the whole spoonful of blicky stuff into my mouth. I had no choice but to swallow. Then she laughed at the face I made, but gave me something to wash the taste away. All she had to do after that was make a pinching motion with her fingers, and I cooperated.

It was enough incentive to remind me that I COULD take the medicine and that a little bitterness was not enough to keep me from getting the necessary help to get better.

So maybe I just need to find that little incentive, that little pinching motion, that little gesture to help me remember the importance of what I am doing. Maybe I just did.

But I still won't think about it until I have to!