I started one day with a guided nature hike that I found listed in a local calendar. I tromped over frosty leaves with a flock of other hardy folk while a naturalist helped me re-learn some winter woody plants. There were folk tales and dorky nature poems.
I went to a science and art lecture with a couple of good friends. It was funny, educational and terrific. Then we went out to a diner and I ate some eggs benedict that might trump all of the eggs benedicts of my past, as well as a chocolate and vanilla coconut milkshake that I'm still dreaming about. Mmmmmm.
I worked on projects, cared for my pets and generally puttered happily around the apartment.
This morning I met with my psychiatrist for a good chat, and then my husband and I spent time hanging out with a lovely friend who had just gone through a miserable portacath surgery (and who managed to be interesting and entertaining even immediately after said surgery, which is a pretty impressive feat).
Then we hopped in the car, because I had dinner plans with another friend -- and the other shoe dropped. WHAM, hello massive fatigue. My mom described post-treatment fatigue as frustratingly unpredictable, and she's right. My body seems game until it very suddenly reaches a limit. I had to cancel my dinner plans, and went home to sit blearily on the couch until it was time for bed.
Anyway, these are all ordinary things, and might be boring to read. But it feels incredible to spend my days doing things that remind me of who I am, and that have (almost) nothing to do with cancer. And this time I lasted a much longer time than usual before I collapsed; a day or two of rest and I'll be back in the saddle. But for now...