Crash and Numb

I peel my eyes open and for a moment, I have to think where I am. Oh, right. Monday morning in my room. I open the Library today. I glance at the clock. Yikes! It is already 7am and I need to be there by 7:30. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and nearly scream. What on earth?

Every joint is on fire. Every spot on my body hurts. My hands and feet are tingling and numb. This isn't right. I'm supposed to be over chemo by now. I urge my body to stand and shuffle to the bathroom, turn on the hot water and slump in the shower, willing the hot water to fix my broken body. My head is pounding, my feet feel as if there are knives stabbing them all over.

Tears roll down my face and disappear into the foggy steam of the running water. God, help me. Please help me. After a few minutes, I will myself to climb out of the shower and dress. Sugar needs walking and I must get to work and unlock the doors. After that I can figure out what to do.

I crawl down the steps like an old woman bent beneath years of arthritis, wincing with every step. Sugar wags her tail impatiently while I struggle to open the front door. She eyes me nervously, wondering what I am doing. I don't even walk around the corner with her. She will have to take care of business right by the door. It takes me precious minutes to mount the stairs and plop her food in her dish.

Never mind breakfast or even a cup of hot tea. I fumble for my purse and head to the car. Driving is easier. All I really have to do is sit. I force myself to focus. It would never to do make a careless mistake and cause an accident. Fortunately, my coworkers have figured out that I am running late and have already begun the opening procedures. I joke about Monday blues and help finish, then head to my office.

I close the door and sit in my comfy chair, lean my head against the wall, and shut my eyes. The protests of my muscles overwhelm me and I give in to it fully. Gradually, the screaming subsides and calms to a dull roar. Better. Better. I move to my desk and open email, sorting through tons of stuff. This will be a grunt work day. I will not trust myself to do anything important. I save tasks of a highly repetitive nature for just such days.

I open my statistics files and start filling in columns from the various reports. All the while I am shaking my head. I am supposed to be fine today. What happened? Haven't I cooperated fully with the work going on in my body? Haven't I turned aside and rested? After all, I blew an entire weekend on recovering. This is not fair. I will not get my paper done. I am not even sure I can be here a full day.

I take care of the calendar obligations, but by 4pm, I know I am done. I head home a bit early after sending my professor an email of explanation as to why I will not be turning in my paper tomorrow. It is the first time in - well - ever that I have not had an assignment done when it should have been done. Can't be helped. The world will not come to an end. But I wonder as I slide into bed how long the siege is going to last.

I guess I will have to count on a longer down time for these maintenance things. Sigh.