Went for a walk here in Omaha this morning. Managed 40 minutes, or about 2 miles at my current reduced pace. Saw a rabbit and some fireflies, heard the nighthawks peeping, and several other birds I could not identify. By the time I got back to my hotel room, my feet were practically on fire with tingling. The magic of peripheral neuropathy.
I do not expect to be especially productive in writing the next few days. Simply too much going on here, with all-day meetings at Day Jobbe and after-hours events these next three days. I plan to get at least an hour a day in, but we'll see. Back on the horse this coming Friday. Endurance is on target, as are the bits and pieces of other projects I still have to deal with.
Spent some time talking with my friend the night clerk here this morning. As I said to him (and have said to others recently), I don't really mind the apparent resurgence of cancer. I think I've come to identify myself as a person-with-cancer, and this will be who I am from now on, even in periods of medical quietude. I'm not too torqued about the probability of more surgery. Surgery is a single event from which one recovers, and this will likely be a less disruptive surgery than the last two. But to lose another six or eight months of my life to chemo... Ah, me. Such a hideous and terrible proposition.
I'm doing a pretty good job of staying positive, but sometimes it just rolls over me.