It's been 14 days since my last chemo treatment and I feel like me again, minus endurance and my usual exuberant energy. I feel good, good enough to go dancing!
I imagine myself running the treadmill, hiking a mountain trail, riding my road bike along Maine's rocky shores. I want to run with the wolves, all night, to drink and party.
I want to run wild.
Limits
I have no reserve energy. At the cellular level, I'm running a marathon. I'm a fan on the sidelines, cheering my body on, amazed by its ability to fall behind and then make a great comeback. I am my body's biggest fan and supporter.
In that role, I honor my soul's dwelling by eating the most healthy food I can (except for the occasional pizza and yesterday's delicious Junior Whopper w/Cheese). I don't drink any alcohol. OK, last night I had two sips of Claudette's red wine. I praised Bacchas for the wine's delicious, if forbidden, taste and ask forgiveness for this small sin.
End of the Road
I'll take my third chemo treatment tomorrow. There will be no running, only the dream of moving effortlessly, gracefully, always forward on the path to wellness. And then there will be dancing.
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