I go walkin in my sleep

It's right about the time that I finished up my chemo, two years ago.

I was mulling it over on my way to work today... out of nowhere I found myself thinking about the nights I spent alone in my room.

During a chemo week (I had a round every three weeks) my husband would sleep in my son's room, to try to give me peace and quiet. The steroids destroyed my ability to sleep through the night. Any sound at all might wake me up, and then I'd be unable to find Mr. Sandman again.

And yet... I hated being alone. I flitted between scared, lonely, bored... sometimes aching from head to toe from the Neulasta, and sometimes tossing and turning in the painful misery of what chemo did to what we'll just call my stomach.

I longed to be cuddled, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to lie still and would actually keep HIM from sleeping enough to continue to work, deal with the kids, etc (all of the things I wasn't doing).

I wanted my back rubbed and my forehead kissed and to be soothed to sleep, but didn't really know how to ask for that, because I had retreated, and assumed everyone in the house was almost afraid to touch me, in the same way you might be afraid to touch a tiny bird who has fallen out of a nest. The bird is already broken, and you don't want to hurt it more.

This was an accidental photo; I did an Ombré manicure tonight as a way to clear my mind of this week's work and elder care duties/drama / what have you and I took a photo of THAT to try to decide whether I like it. (not really, i used green tones to fade and I now appear to be ready for st Patrick's day)

But the photo in this post captures some of the same restlessness that I felt back then, all of those nights two years ago. That fleeting blurry feeling where the minutes drag but in the blink of an eye, blend into one another and suddenly rush by.