FATIGUE continues to be my nemesis. I haven’t been this flat since my high-dose chemo and bone marrow transplant. Sleep is sketchy, energy is limited, margins are gone. Six weeks post-op and I still need pain pills to get through the day. When I sit, it’s like being velcroed to the chair.
But this time around I don’t know the cause, unless it’s just the cumulative effect of five years of unremitting medical drama and attendant emotional trauma.
Alfred Hitchcock once said, “What is drama, after all, but life with the dull bits cut out.” I could do with a less dramatic lifestyle.