I woke up feeling pretty well today—no nausea first thing, and with energy. Of course, I had my infusion yesterday evening, including my IV Zofran, so who knows. But then again, that's one difference between the mechanical nausea (I'll call it) I've experienced this week and the same thing a year ago—last year, every morning from early April for about six weeks, I woke up, rolled over, coughed, and had to go throw up. I don't think it's been happening that first-thing this year. Regardless, a little while after I finished my latte, I was feeling a bit queasy (but this was normal queasy—you see—I'm in a constant state of observation and definition over here, and it's getting a bit old). I had a piece of bread with peanut butter and banana—no honey, because there's no point in sticking up the house when it's so easy to wipe down—then tacked up the dogs and walked off to Fremont to get a baby gift for a shower that I'm attending tomorrow.
Once we returned home (only a moderate apeshit from Hoover when he saw a dog parked in front of the kids' store—the dog was far enough away and I'd brought a squirt bottle and was beaning Hoover between the eyes), I did a strenuous 10 minutes of clipping all the dead branches off of a not-quite-drought-resistant tree in our yard, then 35 minutes of lawn-mowing with our old, rusty, dull push mower.
It seems that a 2 ½ mile walk followed by a workout in the yard helps one feel pretty darn good.