This . . .

. . . kind of sums up how I felt yesterday when I got out of bed, stopped a moment, and realized I felt normal. Seriously normal. No nausea, good energy, no sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, no medicinal taste in my mouth. It was amazing!

I was quickly tempted to feel discouraged since yesterday was a treatment day and I knew that this normal feeling couldn't possibly last, but I decided to instead just take hope that I could feel normal again. My good energy level continued, despite my treatment yesterday, and I celebrated my first nausea-free day with a Krispy Kreme donut for breakfast (eaten during treatment, no less), 1/4th of a Qdoba chicken quesadilla (with guacamole) for lunch and ice cream at 9:00 last night. Now, that's a good day!

My treatment yesterday went well, although I have to just say that having 3 liters forced into your stomach (and gaining 6.5 lbs in one afternoon) is not fun. Full, stuffed, beached whale, all come to mind, and it is quite physically uncomfortable. It's as if my body is so full that everything is crushed together. It's hard to breathe, hard to move. And apparently, there's such a thing as so full that it starts to come back out because my port leaked, which is not ideal and they're going to have to adjust my fluids yet again next time (we've already adjusted once). I'll still get the same amount of chemo, but it won't be as diluted which means it can be even tougher on my stomach. Not gonna worry about it!

My mom and Rory came to pick me up from chemo yesterday, and Rory was able to come back with me in the room for a while. She wasn't scared, and I think it was good for her to get to see where I'm going on treatment days. Ever since my unexpected 9-day hospital stay, she is very wary of me leaving the house without her. The other ladies thoroughly enjoyed meeting her and chatting with her. In typical Rory fashion, she's already played make believe chemo patient, which is kind of sad, but she copies everything she observes in real life so I'm not surprised. As I watched her yesterday, it crossed my mind that when this is over, I hope it's not the "scawy" scars she remembers; not the sickness or the times that I miss activities. What I hope is that she'll remember her mama tried desperately to stay positive, despite her natural pessimistic nature; that she learned the lessons God had for her in all of this, and that God was somehow glorified. Because if those things don't happen, then this whole experience is just not worth it.

Oh, and I feel compelled to let you know that the steroids actually did not keep me up Wednesday night (probably thanks to a new sleep drug) and the nurse said it's those steroids that made me feel so good yesterday. :)

And I felt so good yesterday that I scrapped!