Political nightmares about my cancer. I really have sunk low.
Slept well at least, dreams notwithstanding. Lorazepam really is my friend. Hates it, I does. I'm planning to spend a quiet weekend at home (do I have any other kind), though mikigarrison will be visiting. The usual circus next week, with chemo infusion eleven of twelve overlapping the date of my 46th birthday.
It bothers me that I don't really leave the house anymore. I've stepped outside my door twice in the last week, once for a brief walk on Sunday with shelly_rae after we de-needled me, and yesterday when my sister drove me to my therapist's office. I probably won't step outside again until next Wednesday's therapy appointment, though the subsequent medical and natal festivities will get me into the open air a few more times before next week is out.
Narrow. I am become so narrow. If I had Photoshop I'd make an image of myself as a stickman, because that's how feel. Narrow and tired.