just can't stay down for long

Last night the taste grunge finally receded and for the next couple of days things are less likely to taste like sewage. Unfortunately, as it goes about destroying soft tissue, chemo has a no-taste-bud-left-behind policy: I can hardly taste a thing now. Still, I am trying to eat before the sewage gets "refreshed" on Thursday. I am going to eat a whole loaf of my sister-in-law Patty's cranberry bread before then. Though it tastes like cardboard with sort of tart spots, I have happy associations with her bread and those will have to do for now.

On the up side, I can drink Laura's strong black coffee and not wince. Her coffee is generally of the hair-on-your-chest caliber.

Over the past couple of days, I have surrendered to shrinking my practice down to a very small number of clients. So far I have told about ten clients that I am taking a 6-month leave of absence from the practice. That's huge for me. And whenever I second or third guess this, I drag myself back to the principle that in psychotherapy, it's not good enough to just show up. Both the surgery and the chemo have absolutely dimmed my available light. It is clear to me that unless I am fully present, even if I could fool my clients, I would know they deserve better -- they deserve more of me.

Though I have offered to refer people to another counselor, so far they want to wait until August. With the folks I saw today, I heard myself making sure they know that if something comes up, they can contact me to talk by phone. I give myself a B on firmness with the leave of absence thing, but I don't think I want an A.

I wasn't sure how it would feel as I bid farewell to the bulk of my practice, my clients, my income, but I am relieved to find that I am relieved. Okay, except for the income part. We've been having to dip into our savings since my work has slowed down post-surgery. I've made a few transfers from ING into the bank, and I do it with a little frown. I'm trying to remember that this kind of snafu is what that nest egg is for. I just had other ideas for it. I don't know what they were, but they were going to be really fun.

I did have four clients today, folks I hadn't seen in three weeks. Two of them took a look at the hat and said, "So, you're bald now?" and quicker than you can say "Bob's your uncle," I felt my hand popping off my hat to say yes, bald. I had no idea I would do that. I am going to try to curb the hat-lifting reflex now that I know how I react to that question.

I felt less chemo sick today, enough so that I did some shoveling, something I couldn't have imagined doing three days ago. I faded by midafternoon, but for a few hours I was happy for the reminder that a good mood and having energy is my norm. It's surprisingly easy to forget.

I don't need to confess this, but here it is: I wore the tiniest bit of makeup today. I put on some eyeliner, I think (the skin flops over the line, so it's hard to tell), and a bit of blush. I found the blush alarming and rubbed it in so much that it pretty much disappeared. A bit of lip color. I don't know. I'm trying. It's still so weird. Why don't my beloved brothers have to put on makeup? They're kind of wrinkly and pale, too.