Zzzzzzzz

Yesterday was one of those days when I was tired as soon as I woke up.

I'm starting to pinpoint the characteristics of oncoming chemo fatique, over just plain old regular tired. My body feels like it's dragging. My mind feels cloudy and thick. My speech may stutter or I may hesitate to get out the right word. It's signs of impending immense fatique.

Yesterday the signs were in place early on. But it was an errand day, and we had a lot to do.

We stopped at the bank. Then it was the gas station for a fill-up and a little reminder of the state of the economy. Barb got a fancy coffee drink, and off we went to the drug store for a couple more prescriptions to pick-up.

We were both feeling run down. I was concentrating on driving the peek-a-boo alleys of Mt. Joy. We left Mt. Joy and headed for the butcher in Elizabethtown.

Barb could tell I was getting exhausted. Typically she insists that I handle all of the ordering at the butcher. I know the language. I interact with the crew, make sure we get nice cuts of meat.

This trip she said she would take over the ordering. No argument from me. I was feeling tired, and I'm always urging her to let the crew at Groff's get to know her like they already know me.

By the time we were pulling from the butcher's parking lot I felt heavy fatique setting in. We had one stop left, the biggest of all, the dreaded grocery store. I knew I had to put my head down and get through it.

Being a Friday the store was a little crowded, but not nearly as bad as it can get.

I remember having enough energy in the fruit and vegetable section to pick myself out some strawberries, blueberries, and bananas (and it made quite the nice fruit cup for breakfast this morning).

After that, let's just say I'm glad I had the shopping cart to prop me up.

I remember Barb asking me if I wanted some of these, or some of those. And I, completely exhausted, just answered, "Nah."

By the time we reached the frozen foods I briefly considered laying down on the aisle in Giant and taking a little nap. Realizing that naps on the grocer's aisle are seriously frowned upon, I pushed on, only a few more aisles to go.

Barb and I have an understanding at the grocery store. She picks everything off the shelves and I pack them in the cart. I have a well-thought out, organized strategy for packing the cart in a way that will maximize storage space and get us through check-out smoothly, setting everything up perfectly for bagging.

I know. I know. I'm a blast at parties. LOL

With only a few aisles to go, I just started to say to Barb, "Go ahead and just throw it in the cart." This was a sure sign that I was not my normal self.

We lucked out and had a bag boy through check-out. Actually he was a bag-man, about 6'2", 260-pounds, 60-years old with big red suspenders. He recklessly through groceries together. But I had no energy to intervene.

We loaded up the FJ Cruiser. I sighed and said to Barb, "I'm so tired."

"I know," she said, with that expression that says she wishes she could wave a magic wand and make it all go away.

I cruised the FJ home along the beautiful back roads of Pennsylvania, by the chicken farms and through the freshly plowed cornfields.

I always unpack the car and haul all the groceries into the kitchen, while Barb works diligently to put all the groceries away. This time Barb helped me with the groceries. She could tell I was seriously dragging. My eyes were heavy. My walk was unsteady and drunken-like.

Once all the groceries were inside, Barb ushered me upstairs. I stole the "blankey" from Freckles who was using it as a pillow. The bed felt incredible. I climbed up under the blanket, and Freckles played the piano on it until he settle in beside me.

I fell asleep in minutes and woke up 3-hours later, feeling brand new once again. When chemo fatique calls, there is only one answer. (So far today is already starting much, much better.)