Two Things From Today

First, before I talk about my two things, please read the comment Ian posted to "Do Statistics Count As Permission?" because he spent a lot of work time figuring out what, exactly, he was trying to say to me, and I've suddenly gotten extremely verbose in this blog, so all his hard work is at risk of being buried.

Now, today. First thing: Dexamethazone. Definitely want it back next week. I've been fine, more or less. Meaning I haven't puked. But I did have to ask for bathrooms in both Anthropologie and Coldwater Creek (the sales associates were very nice about it in both stores and the bathrooms, too, were better than the ones at the grocery store where my brother always had to go when he was little, even though we were ten minutes from home, or sometimes one minute from home), and my bowels have definitely not been happy today. I've been awake enough to suit me—I had one shot of caf and three of decaf in my morning coffee today instead of all decaf—but it's definitely not been a normal Tuesday. And I didn't even sleep well last night. A good night's sleep was the main reason for not wanting the Dex, and I didn't get it. Anyway, I tend to soldier on through all sorts of adversity, so I did manage to buy a new pair of jeans, a birthday present for Ian (ha ha Ian—you have to wait six weeks!), and some soaps at the Body Shop. I also helped Mom pick out a jacket at Pendleton, then sat in a chair at Coldwater Creek and chatted with a dashing elderly Pennsylvanian about our fair city while his wife and Mom shopped. The gentleman had not been to Seattle before and loved it. I did point out that this last week has been a particularly good time to visit. Regardless, next week: Request Dex!

Second thing: Driving. When you're told not to do something for reasons that you feel are no longer valid and you do it even though you haven't checked with the reasoner to see what he says, there's a tiny thrill of getting away with something, of disobedience, of freedom, of self-determination. But when you talk to the reasoner and he says "Sure, you can do it—but be careful. Listen to your body. Use common sense and your intuition," well, suddenly doing the thing is a whole lot scarier, because there suddenly seems to be a whole lot more responsibility than there was before. This is augmented by the fact that cancer patients are constantly feeling things that they're not used to feeling. Today, for example, I don't feel the way I normally do the day after an infusion. But I can use my common sense and recognize that what I'm feeling is bowel-related. But still, there is always a question. So yeah, I'm thrilled to be driving officially. But I'm going to be extra careful.