Meanwhile, my brother flew into town yesterday for his more-or-less annual visit. We have our moments, but I love him dearly. Unfortunately, in a family full of motormouths (my sister lillypond excepted, she could silently outwait a tulip blossoming), he has perhaps the most to say. He said it at length, and in some cases at volume, in a flood of long-time-no-see mixed with cancer fear. I know I'd so much rather see him engage than retreat, but it was tough to track along with and left me exhausted.
They finally swept out and I was preparing to go bed about 5:30 when the_child came rushing in with her math workbook and an air of desperation. The school year ends next week, she has much to turn in, and she needed a lot of help. At this point in the chemo cycle, my brain is just emerging from dyscalculia, so while I don't have any trouble with the principles of arithmetic, geometry, algebra, et cetera, my ability to track and correct the details of her efforts is just wrecked. Not to mention having to explain the basic theory behind graphing at a time when I'm literally falling asleep with a nigh room temperature IQ. Which I did, successfully.
All of which is to say, I have a family and a life and they go on whether or not I am struggling with cancer and chemotherapy. It so wears me out, and I resent that.
More thoughts to come on post-chemo strategies and testing, when I get the chance. As it is, tomorrow is my dad and (step)mom's 39th wedding anniversary, so I'm working on having enough energy to be part of the family's celebration.